laurabean
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My stories
The Barley Fields
Baked tarmac cracks in the heat of the day And the smell of scorched earth shimmers. Dust and insects film my prickling face.
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- 656 reads
The Wooden Bench
With blue checked shirt and smiling eyes, You made the wooden bench under the ivy. That golden band glinted on your hand, Which was rough as the wood that you planed. I danced around the garden, all blue sundress and chubby legs,
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- 712 reads
Jonathon James
Poor Jonathon James always suffered from pains As soon as he got near his classroom. He would clutch at his ears in a tantrum of tears And would hide in the infant boys' bathroom. When louder he bawled his mother was called
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- 886 reads
Autumnal Haiku
Evening draws in Serenaded by crow-song As gilded day fades
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- 697 reads
Saturday Morning
I awake wrapped round you and your foot is pressed against mine. It feels smooth against my sole. I inhale your hot, buttery smell and together we stir, stretching with doughey elasticity in the warmth of the day.
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- 674 reads