As the rusting old bucket now stands by the shed
In the heart of the damp cobbled floor,
And raindrops are falling from dark leaden skies
But they'll gather within it no more.
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You have managed to personalise this simple object and yet still somehow give such feeling / emotion to your words, , I don't know why but this poem seems to remind me of that same feeling you got as a Child the morning after the fireworks were set off, , just quite and pondering their spent shells after the blaze A remarkable poem here Andrew, , well done again Love duncan X
This rusty old bucket, was built to last, no longer holds coal But memories - past ! Lovely read Andrew! *10*! ! Friend Thad
Well done Andrew, what a lovely explanation you have given us here. A lkovely subject to write about too. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX