Sro Poem by Rusty Daily

Sro



Anthony and Jodie
grasp statues of
famed charactery,
a his/her sweep of
symbols and signs
among all that glitter gold.

A swifter magnetizes
shelf dust marked by
the thirty seven year old pictured
debut of a tuxed and gowned
newcomer’s appearance to the stage.
SRO
No inquisitor, she.
No eat and run, he.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Elysabeth Faslund 07 July 2007

Great write! Will you be posting anymore poems? Would love to read them! xxElysabeth

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Short, sweet, with amazing concision, Rusty. I, for one, am most jealous! Whoda thunk that dust could speak so eloquently about one's life? You've done this is in a fresh and imaginatively wistful manner. Bravo.

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