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Rob n' Donnas

Bags of sheep
hollowed and hallowed
in a gold lit shack

tempered by fog
split
by haloed sun crack

upon your porch
the bugs hum for my soul
bleats of insanity

as that city calls me back home






























Author notes

JustRob wrote a poem of his home,
this was my answer to my familys own
http://allpoetry.com/poem/5014929

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Comments


  • just rob gold member
    February 11

    Edit | Reply
    The porch ain't the same without ya. I still havent opened the door to that shed. Hope to be sittin' on your porch soon, when I take my safari to urbania.


  • Night Hope gold member
    February 2

    Edit | Reply

    Sighhh...Beaty~full, Dan. I need to get outta this ol' city & find a spot in the woods where I can freely breathe once more. Well done, O Scribely One. An enviable geography & set of circumstances, for certain.