The smell of money was flushed.A Poem by andrew mitchell
Fields of incentives
covered in green, the taste of money lies in exuberance on tables laid, while currency smokes above the rooftops, below the warmth of success wraps around like gluttony as the cries scream out what’s for dessert! © 2018 andrew mitchell |
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Added on August 13, 2018 Last Updated on August 13, 2018 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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