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Reformatting old truisms.


Submitted:Dec 3, 2007    Reads: 132    Comments: 4    Likes: 6   


As silver paint drips from my stressed paint brush

I stand back to admire a collection of�stormy clouds

Each pother is decorated with a neat shiny edge

A border that tells me, even dark days contain some light

A royal appointed judge in red robes

Sits proud, bathed in gloss upon�a cover

I leaf the thick novel, packed tight with many words

Yet I shall not pass verdict, I know not this book

I am no plumber, but with this wrench of determination

I hope to prize this porcelain sink from that stubborn wall

Everything else�from this baron kitchen is packed

While I may allow defeat, those chrome taps are coming with me





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