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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Jasmine's Poetry

Elegy For Spring

Tell me, love. Why have
you gone? The fields are empty
where the flowers crease

and bend, shed of coy
innocence where you laid me.
You called me your dove,

but it is you that
has fled. And the sky weeps gray
mist over spring's sun.

Its embers burn slow to ash.
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