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Field of Strange Surprises

In a field of strange surprises, one chipped cup appears;
Yellow roses near the lip have faded with the years.
A clothesline pinned with tables, along with rusty tools,
Earns heaps of raw derision from mouths of Sunday fools.
They say the world is flooding and seas are black with ink.
But who knows what the truth is, and who knows what to think?
The end of time’s upon us, and dust coats every shelf.
But what’s the use of cleaning? Just leave that to the elf.


Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
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Clothespins photo SoCalJuly2013576a_zpsf2893f1c.jpg
Clothesline at an abandoned homestead, Southern California

Desolate clothespins—
why did the washerwoman
leave so suddenly?
~~ ~~ ~~
waiting for white shirts
or perhaps a red apron—
the empty clothesline

Text and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
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