Stroke

We do not like strokes in television watching, staring at a clock fixation as if smiling for ever, a frozen smile, not moving shadow on face ,flitting as if a white cloud passing on a hill and soft sunset hue added for gold.Poets like to add gold everywhere.

Our stroke of luck does not happen all the time ,in the television or out.This sort of a smile is just some ice,a frozen Arctic waste on mom’s face,fixed for ever and there is no gold,a worn sunset with no talk of dawn.

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