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It was senseless to think she could write

Whilst sitting there, waiting, for morning light

Perhaps the dark, would suit her much better

Not knowing which phrase, or word, or letter

Was gracing the page, such nonsense, she thought

I shouldn’t be writing, I’ll never be bought

But she let the ink fly, even though it was trash

Twas her little sprinkle of balderdash


June Writing – A Sprinkle of Balderdash – Day 1/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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