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In Her Turn

 

She spoke to me

Marked softly

 

In her turn,

 

It seemed to be,

In liquid Polynesian,

 

Of a Grecian

Graceful urn.

 

She looked at me

Quite fiercely,

 

Avidly,

 

Once there to see,

Squished pronely

 

Alying in my open hand

Amongst white grains of beachy sand,

 

A gift of feral fern.

 

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Country/Region: USA

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