Flowers In The Basket
P Patti Masterman
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Flowers in the basket, rotting
Gloves hang by the stairway, dripping
Friends are frantically calling, calling
While my thoughts are slipping, slipping
Roses bloom on faded curtains
Children outside, stairing, stairing
More brilliant dye has stained the cloth
While I sit not caring, caring
Upstairs all is still and silent
Nothing moves inside the gloom
All the voices, never ceasing
Echo in the tomb, the tomb.
Bu şiiri puanla
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