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Rain weaves weary paths on the old Aurelian stone busts like lilting music in a deserted ballroom. Yellow cobblestones echo underneath black soled shoes and sickly noses sing. Across the street, children laugh like the breaking shaft of a silverish door key in a cold iron-clad lock.

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Written by

benjamin-adams

American

Published: Sep 23, 2012
LinesWords: 1347

Notes: I took a line that I liked from my creative writing assignment and built a somewhat new poem around it.

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