Unpleasantly perplexed,
Joe faces a door
without traces that
anyone has ever been
inside. His uncle
bequeathed this work-
shop to Joe, who had
no knowledge of it.
Joe figures the interior
is probably worse
than the exterior. As
he ponders his situation,
the green door begins
to creak open.
http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
The song, “you picked a fine time to leave me, Lucile” just when I was thinking benches, tools, and a dirt floor like my dad had. A thief perhaps? It built up good, Sara.
..
Ooh! Suspense.
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Thanks, Sadje!
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You’re welcome
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To be continued ~~~~~
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Perhaps?
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That’s never good news . I hope we can count on a part two eventually
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Thinking about it.
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The song, “you picked a fine time to leave me, Lucile” just when I was thinking benches, tools, and a dirt floor like my dad had. A thief perhaps? It built up good, Sara.
..
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Thanks so much, Jim!
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I love the mystery this holds Sara! I want to hear more!
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Thanks, Carrie!
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You are now the proud owner of Joe’s television repair shop! Whee. (Business not so good.)
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Useless inheritance!
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Beginning of a lovely mystery! Well done.
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Thanks, Bev!
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