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  October's Child

HERE IN CORN ROW




HERE IN CORN ROW



 Here In Corn Row

                            
The narrow dusty road seems to bade me step in
Where rustling leaves touch streaks of sun in motion
I hear the sounds of an old pick up as it takes a spin
Down on route 66, amid the hum-drum of commotion

                                    
                        
Curled ever-so quietly between the rows of yellow corn
Laced in curves of sifted dust and noon day sun
My thoughts turn as spinning wheels since early morn
Toward olden poets, of Ravens black, and hearts forlorn

                                            
                        
                              
They talk of spring rains in the Valley of Bamboo
Where the hotels are all white and the days are all dreary
Here, above flowing rows of green, the skies are steel-blue
But as I listen to the wind's whistle, I sense something eerie

                                        

But wait, Ravens won't tap, tap, tap, here in Corn Row
So I will stay here drifting in closets of silken thought
An embryo of time, where the air is sterile from eons ago
And nothing whispers, nevermore, nevermore, here inside Corn Row



                                            
Inspiration by Poe !!
              
                   Ici Dans Rangée de Grain(Maïs)


07-16-14

                      







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