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White Silk and Whispers
written by: Ken Allan Dronsfield
Lazy mists envelop this land
scarlet sky with a serene azure
working fields of cotton or yam
adrift within a sun dog's rapture.
Awkward stare at a waltzing raven
escape aroma of decayed river silt
prayers come and rise to Heaven
her old wheel spins white raw silk.
A cool breeze blows over the bay,
whispers of death, the devil's desire.
Life at the crossroad relives each day,
as Robert Johnson strums in the fire.