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FINGERS
Contributed by
wellsmark
on
Monday, 11th November 2002 @ 05:30:00 AM in AEST
Topic:
MiscPoems
|
FINGERS
My momentum quickens to a run,
Concealed behind furs from the rays of the sun.
I flicker into life towards a quiet house,
My step almost as quiet as a scampering mouse.
The house seemed dingy drained of life,
A window easy to open with the insertion of a knife.
The living room at least was of adequate size,
Elaborate curtains fastened with ties.
Silver spoons, candlesticks, my face turned to a grin,
Toasting myself I down a glass of fiery gin.
Filling a sack with peoples possessions,
I slip out quietly onto open roads.
A barn seems an ideal place for my hoard,
My stash hidden away behind a broken board.
Police begin a search but find no trace,
Of the mysterious burglar with no face.
With no witnesses or ant clues,
I drift away with my loot and tools.
Across dewy fields of planted rye,
Man with no face sneaks quietly by.
Copyright ©
wellsmark
... [
2002-11-11 05:30:00] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: FINGERS
(User Rating: 1 ) by Essentially9 on
Saturday, 15th January 2005 @ 10:48:16 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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very good indeedy. |
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