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Dec 2013
There’s an aging house across the street
with inhabitants we’ll never meet
a bright blue truck
grass with no luck
tall weeds that look like wheat.

Their christmas lights are inside out
rust is running all throughout
overgrown
with creaks and groans
brown water out the water spout.
This poem is not finished please give me advice/ where it should go?
Emma B
Written by
Emma B  In the clouds
(In the clouds)   
507
 
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