5/6/14


By au_fait
Thu, 05 Jun 2014
- 528 reads
2 comments
Silent, she held it warily, a thing of power,
a voice.
A boy, trying to help
eased it from her, gently
beat it, gave it back
She threw her sweet tin down
the playground slope
It's lid exploded off, the sides
not round now, bounced.
"Why did he play it?
It's not my drum anymore."
Her face, alive, relishing each
crashing bang. Her rhythm
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Comments
Sorry to copy scratch, but
Sorry to copy scratch, but what he said.
Clever.
Bee
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