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Ten years old,
genius and foolish;

inspired and hushed.

He gnawed his nails
and scraped out the
day old dirt.

Terse sighs and pensive
squints guided his hands
to play the typewriter.
To ripple his fingertips
to the jingle
of his imagination.

To tell childish tales,

to get lost in the world
of a [future] writer.

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The following comments are for "The Typewriter"
by silverscent

I like this because it sets a scene, like the opening for a book... now I want to hear the whole story...

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: May 16, 2007 )

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