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Poetry | Pilferage
Pilferage In the sun, the rain, everyday She stood in wait, to be taken away. Her guide, her master, the charioteer Embraced the breath that choked the year; He will never touch her insides again. They eyed her livery, the passers-by. With the months, they knew There was no one to call her their own.…
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A quick charcoal study
Charcoal as a medium always seems to evoke nostalgia.