The Yellow Shawl, Page 2 Of 2 Poem by John Bliven Morin

The Yellow Shawl, Page 2 Of 2



My neighbor, with his dog,
Woke me, scowling,
Next day;
Along the way,
Started growling.

Tugging, pulling in the garden
Something hidden in the ground;
Ghastly yellow,
Shocked the fellow;
She was found.

So I sit here locked away
Where the walls, I must decry,
Horrid yellow,
Sickly yellow,
Till I die.

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John Bliven Morin

John Bliven Morin

New London, CT
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