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The Forgetting (Free verse) by Dovina

He stooped to smell a rose, the same he’d smelled all morning. Inner child not inner any more, he tasted everything new— delicious oblivion. Eternal pasteless now.

ALChemy 4-Jan-06/3:24 PM
Some words just never look right to me unless I spell them wrong.
"their" is another one. I always want to spell it as "thier". It's not that I see words backwords or jumbled anymore. I just sometimes remember them mixed up. So reading isn't hard for me although it's probably a little slower but writing is a bit harder. One of the reasons I started writing poetry was for practice.




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