Wet clothes hang on a line suspended on two poles
On windy days wave like captive souls
A passerby pauses as if trying to recall a forgotten task
A boy walking the opposite way
Tries to understand between fascination and true insight
He remembers he should get home before Angelus
Clouds darkening hurriedly in the horizon.
edgarone2
simpleimages2 
I love how this sliced off a little bite of an experience and holds it irresistibly in poetry!
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Thank you Jaya.
Poetry helps us to focus, be observant.
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