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THE POPPING OF A POPPET

                                           If i were summoned,

                                           To create a treasure,

                                                I would take,

 

The five thousand year old sketchy stones standing on Salisbury Plain,

A LandSlide rolling down Mount Denali like a skater rolling down a ramp,

A juniper green Basilisk Snake staring into the Autumn trees,

 

The  see through, sky scraping shard towering over all of England,

The intricately carved entrance of the American Presidents home, solomon islands slowly  disappearing because of the greedy ocean,

 

The taste of my mum’s cooking delicious banana bread,

The satisfying feeling of popping a poppet,

A child’s heart dropping out of their chest just before they get in trouble,

 

The enjoyable feeling of arbitrating a piece of popcorn on your sharp teeth,

The lengthy blonde hair hanging out of the second story window attempting to sneak someone in,

The small pigs scared if their house will be blown away because of the big bad wolf,

 

The unknown story of each and every star in the galaxy,

The spinning satellite forever sitting in the world of blackness,

A sixty five year old arrow rusting to the colour of a chocolate bar,

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