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I am the word juggler.I juggle the wordslike swords.I slice sensewith poetic license.
Newly baked and fresh todayEat while hot or take away.
Spring is baby,bright, fresh and new,gurgling with the melting snow,singing with the first cuckoo.
Thomas Farynor, Baker to the King,Left his oven burning with the firewood nearby.The embers muttered, the little flames took wing
The light through the blind is a poem,
the way it illuminates air.
And the shadows that fall
on the floor and the wall
are signs that a poem is there.