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Fanciful Visions
A thought flew by
I tried to snatch it
But from the air
I just could not grab it
Next floats an image
along the banks of my brain
Yet when I try to recall it
it slips down the drain
Then ‘fore my eyes a rainstorm
furious its pellets, slit-slanted its form --
O, to trap her lightning in a bottle
yet though I lunge, she's going full throttle…
Seems I just haven’t much luck
with fanciful visions I would pluck
My lithe and limber fingers gnarl up…
Stop saying ‘Timber’ ~ they’re stuck
Copyright ©
Gershon Wolf
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