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Town of dreaming and reading,
Blue and pink-washed shops,
Stone Celtic cross reaches skyward in its square.
Boatless silted harbour, a martyr’s slate
and a shuttered stone house
named Barbados Villa looks out
of place, yet who would not want
to open its door, explore this mansion
built of sugar’s profits? Built
for a slave made free. Who
would not want to find themselves here?
Barbados Villa entwined in Rococco letters
around their iron gate. House rare as larimar
in a town of pastel-painted bookshops
on this fluid, early autumn afternoon.

6 Dec 18

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Descriptive without epiphany
 — unknown

Thanks - is that working for you without an epiphany?
 — opal

Not really

There’s a lot here that can be solidified to a grand conclusion instead of the usual autumn declarations.  

Unless of course mundane endings are desired.  
 — unknown

I wanted a dreamy, watercolour feel but how about another stanza with a bit more drama in it?
 — opal