Plath
i never knew who she was
until i was called "plath-like";
same obscured thoughts
abundant in poetic frame of mind
i scribble thoughts
like shadows on walls
beneath a pale moon
that play in the corner
where darkness looms
then fade out
before the bloody rise
of cockcrow
i never knew who she was;
back then
they fed us poe
shakespeare
and wadsworth
so minds of children
could grow
i never knew who she was
her ink ran dry
long before i could finger a pen
yet her thoughts
linger in my mind
"plath-like"
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2019
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