Twenty Miles of Blue

by sugarcoatedprincess

A portrait painting lays plastered to the porch, A red red door reads number thirty-seven,

A few men looking neither here nor there, Gather at the gate sporting even’ wear.

 

A giggling gaggle of flocking lady figures, Feature, swirling serenely to the left,

Turning heads, lifting others slightly, While they move rather spritely.

 

And above all this small commotion, A blackbird and a rock dove, wile away the hours,

Flying, flocking also, as birds are seen to do, Their feathers flutter and are free in twenty miles of blue.

 

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