The poet the painter and the Cat that came lastA Poem by Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)
The hidden etching
Lay in the corner Her eyes Saw it She brimmed over Couldn’t wait To see His new work Show me No it’s not For sale yet Was his solemn answer The air was thick musty With week old Laundry washed And unwashed I’ll give you Five hundred Really he replied !? Later that night He took Out his pencils Scribbled ! ‘sold To an idiot ‘ In thick lines Over the blank white paper Smiling he laughed to no one Slept rather well Though woke twice To the sound of distant Party 🎈 Next morning She arrived At ten With her Money in cash Do me a favour he said Go home Why she asked Knowing now He hadnt started it yet She put on the Five minutes noodles Sprinkled the Parmesan on top Evenly Strong Coffee went well too They ate in silent Wonder Of how good noodles were When you had Five hundred In Monopoly money In a pocket And an unstarted Masterpiece Behind a chest Staring at your fork Of bliss In each Repetitive Move The cat finally Got a tit bit © 2023 Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)Reviews
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4 Reviews Added on September 19, 2023 Last Updated on September 19, 2023 AuthorJulie McCarthy (juliespenhere)Sydney , AustraliaAboutAmateur old poet well not that old but not a young 20 anymore I live to write I write at least five poems ditties every weekend and a few during week I write quickly it just flows and bu.. more..Writing
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