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A Poem by LadyRosaline
"

I have an array of stock-metaphors at my disposal, for cases such as this.

"
Some water cupped in hands right through the creases
Leaks. 
Left are we with less and less the volume�"
How quiet its release, how mere its ebb,
How consummate the drips duly drip,
How steady its decrease, or how metrical�"
Desponding, minute and minuscule, as a bloom 
Subtly matures from seed to stem to bud
It flowers, a lively progression imperceptible 
Until little is left with little left to go,
Less than what is gone, all done and none to do.
The wallclock is as useful as the tablespoon.

© 2013 LadyRosaline


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Added on September 13, 2013
Last Updated on September 13, 2013

Author

LadyRosaline
LadyRosaline

About
Read, write, and be read, but always be yourself, for your voice is yours alone and originality can be found within, if no where else... Writing is an expression. I know, I can hardly read that sta.. more..

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