www.whyville.net Sep 21, 2008 Weekly Issue



Wicked777
Whyville Poet

Colloquial

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FRONT PAGE
CREATIVE WRITING
SCIENCE
HOT TOPICS
POLITICS
HEALTH
PANDEMIC
A sad chorus of violins
They screech and echo and sigh
My hair hangs like a curtain in front of me
I cannot face this goodbye

So, with puffy eyes and flaming cheeks
I enter the musty cloud
I listen for your footsteps, feel for your hand
But the voices are too loud

Back where I sit, back where I was
Surrounded by the horrible disarray
I rise from my chair and cross to the casket
To press my cheek where you lay

 

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