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Joyce zimmerman Sep 2016
The Wrislet

the cuff upon your wrist I spy
a leather piece tied raw hide
a studded brass spike adds the gloss to
such a fine and wondrous piece
of trash
I hanker for another glance
I think this find is neither past nor future but something that  forever will it last
and with hair of re dish curl
and you with features make a lovely
girl, you wear the cuff upon your wrist
as if it were a gift
it sets u apart from ordinary to ****
and makes me wonder is thee smart
to grab so much attention from my heart


musing
I lay my head upon my pillow
words they come to knock
upon my sleepless mind
those letters how they slosh about
and keep me from my sleep and weary at my heart
they fly about my mind
and jump upon my brain
I hush and hush them
but on they drone
one more word takes the thrown
like a cap I am forced to hold them
under wrap
for who am I to speed them bout
and who am I to let them out




Sent from my iPhone

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