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Old laundry

I am that old collector
who collects every bauble,
every shining little verse
every idea worth its words,
to put them together
turn them over,
left and right
tweak that a bit?
To see what comes;
to see what births.
And I lay’em out
clean new laundry
washed and afresh
drying in the sun.
Are they mine?
Are they yours?

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Posted by on August 7, 2011 in Creative, Poetry, Thoughts

 

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