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Leslie Philibert
Poems
Dec 2016
A Possible Witch
you step like a puzzled *****,
you sniff at damp bark
and beds of leaves,
clothed in burnt sticks and smoke,
your eyes are slanting snow
wary of ice and shadow;
this falls between us;
you wait under trees
or at frozen gates
on evenings when I late home,
carrying the basket of stones
you laid at my door
Written by
Leslie Philibert
63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)
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