Made of fine glass of opaline,
a mantle clock in France,
placed low on a silvery shelf
of place where we did dance
Of pink, and a polished pontil,
I stared at it a while...
It stays inside fond memory,
that clock with pink dial
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3/27/2015
No. 5 - Opaline
(common meter stanza)
Contest - Let Me Feel Your Lines
Sponsor - nette onclaud
6th place win
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Featured poem of the week
commencing 9/16/2018
Categories:
pontil, imagery,
Form: Rhyme