A rag doll sitting beside the window
trying to sort out the myriad shapes with her lifeless button eyes
A black-button eye waiting for a girl to wipe away the dust that settled on it
And the girl was speeding away from the gingham dress, the wollen hair and the button eyes
She was leaving a little part , which was hers..forever.
The swirling , murky, fishy great river that sluggishly, complainingly
Dragged itself with the weight of so much of human waste and follies,
No longer could be seen from the train window which turned foggy
In the morning chill of December. And then she cried.
After thirty years I dug a small grave tonight and rested my tortured dreams.
I sung a requiem to those button eyes.
Merry Christmas.
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1 comment:
good work
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