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Stilts

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  • Stilts



    Within these woodlands I don’t run around,
    keep still where all the timber stilts surround,
    for if I move a little man falls down,
    hate filled I caused his tumble to the ground.

    Delusion was his watchword when up high,
    deluded how the light would blind his eyes
    but with his feet on grass ligneus sees
    and what a stilted man constructs as trees.

  • #2
    Nice poem algernon. Welcome to the zone.

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