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Jan 2020
I scratch the neon paper with thoughts in my mind-
The way you scathed laboured wood under dim candle light.
Clueless to my aptitude the falsity of what is new
What I know is- You, not you but your marvelous craft-
papyrus paper and pen, quill to bound book.
What makes a poet? I really do not know.
Written by
Xella  Australia
(Australia)   
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