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Lost & Free

I wrote a poem & kept it in a drawer
I left it there amongst the needles
For years it lay forlorn
One day to mend a sock I came
And there beneath the thread
I spied the mottled poem
That had remained unread
I placed it on the counter top
Beside my cup of tea
When I returned
My cup was washed
The poem had been set free

© Pamela Morrison

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