The Pendulum
When cold trucks down the highways of my veins, The pendulum draws from yes to no. Now falls choking on tomorrow, The mourning dove spins a web of sorrow. Blue buys me. When good fortune dusts me lustily with its fragrant puff, The pendulum drifts from no to yes. The minutes pluck my fruit, Kindergarten yellow paints my grey. Warm pays my rent. Written December 15th, 2001 © on Dec 15 2001 01:15 AM PST, Carole Dudley 20 • 0 • 1
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"When cold trucks down the highways of my veins,..."