I swirl my Earl Grey, guiding the line's patter,
as if fishing for riches from my mind's grey matter.
Nostalgia is awakened by thick, canned clam chowder.
My chartreux reverberates purrs as rain gets louder.
Plush clouds comfort rooftops in a drumbeat canopy.
Dancing chimney smoke defies the law of gravity.
Pavement reflections flicker in fine artistic form.
Grey's fine, pearly essence is mysteriously warm.
2-28-2021
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