We have the beginning of a poem dance. This is the one I posted yesterday:
at the end of winter
at the end of a warm daydusty rain
and here is Niki's response:
after a day of sun
after working the garden
sideways snow
from jenett:
in the heat of worry
in a storm of regret
nothing changes
from Shelley:
under moss
under fallen leaves
forgotten acorns
before she left
before what passed for love —
who were you then?
from Paisley:
as the breath leaves
as the soul escapes
life begins
Next?

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