Poems

End of Taradiddle

Zonked being zonked?
Familiar faces painted and tainted?
Vexing to concede the aura?
Aspired to possess it?

Absurd! Here now, then gone.
Wind-chasing arouses inklings,
Inklings live next door to despondency.
There’s a shoe a coat and a bottle.

Shoes are on, coat is on.
The neighbor gets to collect the bottle.
Aura is a moment … depleted,
Superseded shoes and coat accompanies.

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