Monday, February 27, 2012

WATCHORN'S EMPORIUM 1845

For a time, at least in her mind,
she slips beyond the tyranny of place,
her fingers trace over elegant satins;
she inspects fine shoes and parasols,
children's beaver hats and Valentia boots,
Cheshire cheese and Westphalia hams
and currents and candied peels
and she dreams of a world far away.

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