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thinking, writing, learning

Coping

April 9, 2012 ·

#npm

Cold fingers
Cold toes
Cold nose
Chills, aches,
Pain like little needles.
Air conditioners whir and churn .
Give me a hot day under a tree, a breeze by the beach.
I dread the coming of the machine.

Filed Under: Poetry

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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end.
–Gilda Radner

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