Fighting Poesy Fantasy 41

41With road-killed foxes, wheel-less wheelbarrows and trampled daffodils in the back of your mind, left at the side of the journey you have fought through, you plaster each paper cut, proud that your patience had been tested but never broken. You look back up through the window - the moon is balanced against the sun in a clear sky. Your alarm goes off, you notice, under your hands, the page is printed and you realise that yes, yes, you are a poet. You go to... the next available blank page and write your next masterpiece. The end?

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