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13h
Creaking of wooden boards,
before a car shall take its fall
into a river with such warm of lights,
and extinguished upon the coldly night,
and trapped are the souls of freezing,
Snap comes a crackle and the pop
and before you know it, a bookshop
sells how you died in a disaster,
A family of sons and daughters
This is is the rapid flow of water.

Dreams are like cobbled old stones,
The same but varies in these old bones,
I twisted the bulb but the street lamps,
won't come alive like skateboard ramps
in the local of this community
and I leave so pale my adversities
will fade in the rain as the sun comes out.
A re-write of my first poem after more than a decade and a half break & very rusty.
The first version obviously does not have the last 3 years to relate to.
I re-wrote the poem to show beginners the difference 3 years make when dedicated to the art of poetry. Poetry will not make you money but it does hone your writing skills.
Please note - Damocles below is a troll on this site who targets random people for sport, he has nothing better to do with his time. Please ignore his comment below.
Ted
Written by
Ted  49/M/Heaven & Hell
(49/M/Heaven & Hell)   
22
   C Conner
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