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Tangerine Sky

Rating: 5.0
Some poems seem to
write themselves;
I just move the pen.
Others, are like lumps
of clay;
they refuse to be molded;
they need moisture and time.
This one is like
a robin that just learned
to use its wings.
It heads west, on a
gentle breeze, into
a tangerine sky.
Tangerine Sky
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COMMENTS
A beautiful poem with sterling imagery. Top Marks.
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