When one is shut out, the door quietly closing,

Not with a slam but with a slight casualness

Indifference hurts far greater in the long term

Not that I particularly agreed with her bent

Nor did I vehemently differ with her course

Seems at times she wrote sweetly of emotions

It was those raucous rants that threw me off

Standing on hilltops shouting personal affronts

Not at me but at those I see in a different light

Not that I cling to the ideations of those folks

It’s just that she writes of emotions so well

Wasting her beautiful talent on such things

Things that clang like a cowbell on a useless cow

When her subtle poems ring like tiny cymbals

Their music slightly tingling up my spine

Their beauty wonderful things to behold.




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