Hannah Wright

Floor pile

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I stood inside your pool in some palm setting reel
A picture on a screen there sat you and me And i
comb the wire for a lock of papier-mache I build a
tower for you to portray You let go of my hand and
acted like we never touched Like some harbour a
ship never brushed I am the floor pile walk over
me My light has grown tired paint over me All at
once i just can't abide i fear On the cobble swims
a king with a hearty smile