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PostPosted: Wed Jun 21, 2017 8:41 pm
by Saturn

Snatches of gossip
Heard at distance
Is telescoped; hot
Air propels Rumour
The many tongued
Dread ole windbag.

Ladies of an age
When words wound,
And news is a dear
Commodity, trade
Like inmates their
Juiciest tales for

A currency more
Viable than cash:
A Casandra-like
Ability to predict.
Speculation, pride
In that knowledge

Which is beyond
State secrets; to know
Number 24's most
Mundane business.
Give me the old
Witches any day.