She wasn’t exactly labouring
Under the lop-sided load,
But ‘listing’, rather;
Her frail fingers paying the price
...
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I love the last verse and the sad ending. I wonder now, who she was. Sincerely Ernestine Northover
Accessible, your poetry seems to me, and beautifully crafted too. Each word weighed and measured (probably many discarded in the process) . Love your love affair with alliteration too. Gives the poem a real mark of authority. You share your ephemeral human moment, with compassion and a hint of a smile. Lovely poem. Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥