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RUBBER PENCIL her image reflected off wet grass shimmers out through the sky her voice falling gently back like sunlight through the clouds dries upon my harden ears like a hammer tapping tapping it winds its way to my mind curiosity begs me listen i do the hammer strikes the ring comes screaming back Tom Mann |
Additional Notes:
This is a poem my husband wrote that I am submitting under my email. All of the
line spacing, lower case lettering, and indents are intended. Michele Mann
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