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Silk Alabaster When you’re ready You fly. Are you not shy? She asked, placing Her golden apple On the table. Are you not red When you’re read Revealing your label? Some wait for A spaceship Some pray for The rapture Some do it each day Depends what you’re after. Is it right What you write? I don’t know, It just seems to flow Through me. This word has one t, She pointed and slipped, From blonde to brunette To silk alabaster. Stephen Nesbitt©
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