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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required O! Same place, same time morning chill and cracks of sun curled in dark doorway her shape, her pulse same line Same doorway she calls her home ‘tween supplements west and bath bombs east colours waft and mingle, stenches wrap early morning baking under all Breathing rasping cocoon of red cloth silent breaths thru curved teeth flicking thoughts, cloudlike slip ear to ear passing dreams, rapid cut, endless loop of mind-time Passerby reaching for weekly rag apologizing for disturbance of space, time, home an eyebrow, then eye appears from behind red blanket a smile, a nod a thankful warm cackle he, he he...wee, hee, wee, he he Her name is Mrs. Moore I’m told, I heard I think, Mrs. Moore someone said, in passing by the passers-by Mrs. Moore, her name in whispers shuttered glances, skipping stares, Mrs. Moore she is, or was... Used to be a banker, I’m told they say a banker, and turn away passers-by rumoring, a banker once “I think she was, oh yes a banker”, wrinkled granny memories past so crystal clear - Mrs. Moore, the banker Same words tumble, passing thoughts mouth to ear and then disappear “banker, yes I was a banker” Granny soothes, knowing glance “let her sleep, let her rest poor soul”, granny canes on by, leaving soul of Moore behind, breathing, muttering, mound ‘O red, enwrapped, ensconced, installed “she was a banker, oh we remember, a banker yes” whispers fly, “she had it all” , and now all she has is her old, stained, wrinkled, damp, red... blanket Passers-by ignoring ball of red, Moore ignoring them, ignoring all All ignoring her, and she, all Ignoring cars swishing by, buses ignoring, filled with ignoring seated sheep all ignoring ; this building to huge, symphonic, cacophony of... ignorance Tucked away, back inside shadows fade, sun too bright, cold too sharp Within red shroud, Mrs. Moore in ray of light smile upon her nodding face dreams so free and light and white dreams of heaven, clouds and light flocks of doves flying higher higher paper trails stretching far behind, reaching limits towards the sun Light, airy, free of pain and damp free of cars, of banks, of brooms and buses of passers-by, free of whispers free of nods of clucking grannies, daughters stares, of candy babies, sticky dads. No meaning, Mrs. Moore, but free and light no breath, but air... peace... rest....
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