A Wrinkle Poem by James McLain

James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

A Wrinkle



A wrinkle.
Now barely perceptible.
Being perceived.
Is to banish it.
Awakened to hands.
Frantic to remove it.
Lubricants, scented oil,
and Mary Kay.
Just for a day to be free of it.
It always comes back,
with a friend.
Left with nothing but age to cover it.

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James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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