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Beyond Walls

In the cool clime of The Low Countries,
beautifully aged brickwork
of merchant houses,
cemented all those years ago,
even as they were completed,
seemed worn to a honeycomb glow.
How lovely the morning sun,
glistening through early dew.
The holy ghost of all they held dear
flitted among monies  made and profits due.
Young girls stitched lace collars
that fitted not too tight
above a handsome velvet coat
magnificent in broad daylight.
They turned and smiled
towards the lady of the house
dressed in bodice over a plain skirt
gliding upon polished tiles.
She would kneel to wile away an hour,
fingers tapering towards heaven,
but her mind had long risen, wandered far
from her gilded prison.

2 Dec 18

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  Love the third stanza. Great poem
 — CheBourdain7

I  thank you CheBourdain7 for recognising true genius LOL.

Larry in his own rite Lark
 — larrylark