Cold (an acrostic poem)

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Chilled to her bones, she tried to finish her typing, listening to the percussive clatter of the keys

Only the chattering wasn’t just the keyboard, but her teeth beat a duet with her fingers

Leaving her to wonder if the furnace was ever going to kick in

Didn’t remember she had placed a hold on it so no heat came for a long time

Balls (an acrostic poem)

Bowling down her competition

Abagail paused to catch her breath

Looking for a sign for where next to strike

Laughing at how they mockingly told her to grow a pair

She threw herself into finishing them off

 

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