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Lemon.

Lemon

   I had a study, once.
   Two large windows hung
   With lemon-yellow curtains.
   The walls were lemon-yellow too:
   Fields of saffron stippled with innocence.

   Yes, even the bookshelves.
   My husband, laughing,
   Beard all flecked with Spackle:
   "Guess there's no need
   To ask what color I should buy."

   Early morning was the best time.
   Sun slipped round the corner
   Like a lady on her way out,
   Nodded to the room in passing.

   I kept that room four years.
   Heart tack-tacking to the beat
   Of fingers pounding the keyboard.
   Never noticed how the sun dissolved in words.
   The yellow faded.
   Requiem for a dream
   Gone sour.
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Author:Weeks, Laura D.
Publication:the new renaissance
Article Type:Poem
Date:Mar 22, 2008
Words:104
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