The Interactive Poetry Pages

Salon for Rhyming Poetry - One


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Poem Number 964
tears in her eyes as she walked out the door
a trail of onion skins, over the floor
To pass the time, cooking does the trick,
But be careful, the floor is very slick.
You can't hide forever behind an apron
the egg carton is an empty caterpiller
into the yard, squinting in the bright sun
you venture forth to the supermarket


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