The Poetry Kit |
| Bob Cooper | |||
| When Statues Chat They stretch and yawn, clamber down from plinths, from lintels, canopies and balustrades, to crowd into some seldom visited square where they murmur in their ancient languages of what they've seen since the last time they gathered like this. Expressionless faces begin to smile, some give stone cracking laughs at the follies of people, their fickle moods, the arguments, quiet confessions of love, while others dance slowly or sit and play cards until dawn pinks the sky when they sigh, return and hoist themselves heavily to where they're seen so high above us with looks on their faces we can never reach, so single minded, so alone. |
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