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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Jasmine's Poetry

Canto For Autumn

Autumn's potpourri
lingers, and so does your taste,
love. The leaves are swathed

in fine scarlet gowns,
sodden with amber-ochre
threads. You've made us a

bed within them; an
auburn bronzed abode you call
home. But the leaves will

never be home without you.
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