Tuesday, 6 November 2018

Anaphora (November)

November it is the worst of times. November hears the prince of lies every single day. November feels unseasonal heat through its epidermis. November adds up the accounts of those with nothing left. November cannot avert unexpected tragedy. November gets inside your head. November loses count of the dead. November it is the best of times. November holds the world in its palm. November’s fingernail touch types glass epistles. November’s little comedies. November has a roof over its head. November hears loving words just said. November has food enough for everyone. November breathes the rainy air. November is all there.
 
Anaphora (November)
 
November it is the worst of times.
November hears the prince of lies every single day.
November feels unseasonal heat through its epidermis.
November adds up the accounts of those with nothing left.
November cannot avert unexpected tragedy.
November gets inside your head.
November loses count of the dead.
November it is the best of times.
November holds the world in its palm.
November’s fingernail touch types glass epistles.
November’s little comedies.
November has a roof over its head.
November hears loving words just said.
November has food enough for everyone.
November breathes the rainy air.
November is all there.

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