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Something in the drip
Softens complexions
Tenderised by the slip
Whitish cream
To glide away the day
The drip appreciates
Every lip,
From the chrome to the
Masculine to feminine
Blind to
Nature’s imperfections
Or diversions
As she slips and drips through
Cold; past the seal
That holds the ocean
And pushes gravity back
This drip no longer likes to
Holding for the child to
Play with his boat,
Or the mother to clean
Her pearly whites
Or I to cleanse this washboard
Called my life
Something in that drip,
Made my mind slip
And daydream of the life
A little droplet makes.


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The following comments are for "Something in the drip"
by C.Lynagh

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