Wanda Bailey

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Best Poem of Wanda Bailey

Closing Time At The Mall

To and fro they march
like raindrops in the dust,
dirt soldiers we used to
call them. Heads bobbing,
feet marching as if to war.
Passing each other,
looking but not seeing.
They carry the burdens
of the day in bags and on
their shoulders.
Shoppers eager to hit one more
store before the mall closes..

Read the full of Closing Time At The Mall

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