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A Desert
My brain is a desert
Today; I can’t lie.
There’s nothing to write of,
Although I can try.
The walk by the river?
The foods I did eat?
The book I just finished?
The crossword complete?
The shoes I discarded
Since new ones arrived?
The plants freshly watered,
Surprised they’ve survived?
I guess that the desert
Some cacti call home
And that is the reason
I’ve written this poem.
Copyright ©
Ilene Bauer
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