Brittle Wool
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In January’s chill, my woe is exposed
Like a mesh of rough woolen lint
Hanging on thick icicles when hours pale ;
As brittle fleece of dreariness
Grips my pores, longing for a cashmere night.
Battle of Honorable Mentions
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureaux
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Former Contest using Verse in 5 Lines
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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