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EMILY B.
Dark, dreary, December
A lone tree
Exposes bare branches
To pouring rain
And roaring wind.
Birds fly quickly
Attempting to escape
Destruction.
Split level house,
Safe, snug, warm,
A long distance
From the moors.
I cry . . .
. . . . .
There I am
In a tiny cottage,
Gazing into dark distance.
Pouring rain,
Roaring wind,
Endless emptiness.
I cry . . .
"HEATHCLIFF" !!!! . . . .
Annette, 1979
Reposted March 7, 2012
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MORE SHADOWS (PROMPT 8B)
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