Rolling

there was nothing more to do

and nothing more to say

so she curled up in a little ball

and tried to roll away

she rolled over lawn and drive

bounced far acoss the land

over mountains, through valleys

far across the burning sand

she rolled and rolled

past monuments iconic

the taj-mahal, la tour eiffel

it truly was ironic

in the red light district of amsterdam

she felt much more at home

or zipping through pere la chaise 

while reciting oscar’s poems

finally, deflated, she rolled to a stop

upon a hill did her journey end

she found herself at home among

the graves of an author’s family and friends

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