Tail

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Me Studio B


Dream Dream. Dream. Dream. Dream. Dream...

Submitted: December 07, 2017

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Submitted: December 07, 2017

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Peter Piper 

Picked a Peck of

Pickled Peppers

 

For me

For him

For us together

 

They lay upon Truffles

On Tree Turbines

A wayward system of carnival rides

 

Although they did not stay that long

I'll picture them with every song

 

For upon a babe's first sweet laugh

A streak appears onto the sky's clean graph

 

Strikingly beautiful as a pure white

For its fairy's fist born flight

 

And thus with those same

picked pickled peppers

 the bell has rung on this game of checkers


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