Is It Poetry
Social visits come and leave with me.
I think I'm in over my head.
Can you taste the comet as it passed.
Dishes never used the past has cost.
The decent thing to do is leave it there.
Outside it's dark and quite one tree it moves
against the window payne.
A green bush from the smell of it, the tree is straight and true.
With a leaning to the left leaves fall down from it
from nothing it, I made.
From ordinary things to you, are great things shown.
Up through the bush this tree has grown.
To show the rest the way.
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