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Stephen Brian Brady


Life on the edge


like clockwork comes the night-train
from a million miles away

the same repetitious chatter
how can they say
they're only pot or maybe plastic figurines
somewhere in a corner of a window-ledge
and yet clinging to the edge of being
we shelter from the day

and there impermanent
remaining faithful to the characters we play

Submitted: Friday, August 01, 2014

Topic of this poem: life


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