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Black moss and flower pots. She cometh not, she cometh not. Lonely and moated, Rusted nails broken. Dew with tears, An hour before sunlight. Cold winds wake, A greyish mourn. Clustered marish-mosses, Silver green bark. In a dreamy home. Among wainscot, Door hinges creak. Like a mouse, She shrieked- She cometh not, she cometh not.
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Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 8:06 PM UTC
TO MARIANA - in response to “Mariana” by Tennyson
Black moss and flower pots. She cometh not, she cometh not. Lonely and moated, Rusted nails broken. Dew with tears, An hour before sunlight. Cold winds wake, A greyish mourn. Clustered marish-mosses, Silver green bark. In a dreamy home. Among wainscot, Door hinges creak. Like a mouse, She shrieked- She cometh not, she cometh not.
thenapkinpoet
Written by
20/Philadelphia, PA
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 8:06 PM UTC
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