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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1533430
a time in life
I am a wooden box

cast aside by a bad spell

lost names are scraped on me



I smell of moth balls

dust wraps my corners

a rusted lock seals my fate



rays of sun avoid me

they rest on the porous arm chair

I sigh on its long proud shadow
© Copyright 2009 Kalyani Rao (kalyanirao at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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