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Evening Strolls
May 2, 2019
At one point, clouds did scare me,
now courage is brought to scheme
when met with lighted forces
from dollops of darkened cream.
Bitter like black coffee
when creamer makes it sweet,
my creamer being evening strolls
on my quiet, cloudy street.
My book held by the binding,
my pencil in my palm,
I record my nightly finding
in a spoken, tuneless song.
© Jennifer T., Hanson, MA
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A poem about writing a poem on a cloudy day.