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Autumn's Spree

When we were young and lacked the coin to buy enduring toys, the Woolworth store defined the reach of acquisition, filling up the breach of larger dreams with flavored ice and scooter pies. We consumed them while on the run through the hot streets of Washington, learning thus the rate of sweetness and how rapidly it melts away. At the flea market in Arlington we saunter through the parking garage and dispense the largess piled on age. She soothes the ache of toys denied with a pewter vase and a string of Lapis from Afghanistan. I use the hour to forage for battered trains from before the war when I could only watch the tin toys run through the teasing window of the store.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 6/16/2020 5:39:00 AM
beautiful poem shared; well shared
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Date: 3/7/2019 2:24:00 PM
Hello bill Keen, so nice to meet you. this poem to me , sounds like the memories of the past. have a nice day my friend.
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