Left to her own devices she meanders
Into rooms where she discovers doors
Some locked, some warped, and some within plain sight
Beyond which she has scarcely trod the floors.
...
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I feel as if I've been dragged into this attic here then heartlessly shoved back out again at the end. Linda, I love the way you command words, rhyming when you choose as if it's not something you even have to think about (and maybe it really isn't!) . Then there's the punchy rhythm that carries all these visual words, pumping the reader along, the reader finding it impossible to back out of the poem. And then there's the rather harrowing account of the history of the attic. Linda, this poem is sublime. And I'll tell you something else: I learn from you. Warmest regards and a score of 10 from Gina.
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I feel as if I've been dragged into this attic here then heartlessly shoved back out again at the end. Linda, I love the way you command words, rhyming when you choose as if it's not something you even have to think about (and maybe it really isn't!) . Then there's the punchy rhythm that carries all these visual words, pumping the reader along, the reader finding it impossible to back out of the poem. And then there's the rather harrowing account of the history of the attic. Linda, this poem is sublime. And I'll tell you something else: I learn from you. Warmest regards and a score of 10 from Gina.