Muse |
Muse |
Iron filings have a tendency to run. Sandy; they go to see, Fuss and feathers, all in one. Reach the gathering in time, Rise and fall with the tide. Move on now, follow the line. Speckles in snow, Amber in eyes, Gone at sunset, back at sunrise. Combed and ready to crow, With a beard, sing: It draws in like a magnet, what a show! Originally written January 2012, age 16
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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