It's a Wrap
 
Words fall upon the paper, make no reason make no rhyme.
Scandalous, petulant, fine, they rest jumbled bide their time.
Could I put them altogether, tell a story, maybe sing a song.
Manifest, clairvoyant, plain, place them aligned took so long.
Reading what I have written, myself I ask am I done.
Conclusions, rendering, end, to a finish, setting sun.

By panther811

© 2018 panther811 (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The NO FRILLS CHALLENGE--read page for complete rules and info (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The NO FRILLS CHALLENGE--read page for complete rules and info (challenge has been closed)


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