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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Cotton Princess

The hustling bustle that we call the metro
Does not encompass the heart of this town 
The  green bristled fingers heavily flow
Along the sloped roadside, and clustering down
The land-vested gentry, In nearby steeple
Pay heed to true royalty, cotton enshrined 
Who, In the age of machine, seduces all 
To their truest asset, the lush cads remain blind
Their god, all about them, emaciated by wont
A spectacle  now, a cupped beating heart
This whole continent was once her haunt
Now so diminished that most live apart
Though, hold her not in stunted esteems
It is only for now that her wild lungs rasp
so long as there are stray sun beams
the cotton princess will retain some grasp

Submitted: July 09, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Bookish B. All rights reserved.

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