A hermit strolls in solitude,
Through aisles of spectral hush;
Each item glows in lyric touch—
A loaf, a pear, a thought subdued.

A breeze of absence wafts the shelves,
As jars reflect the moonlit haze;
Soup cans muse their silent ways,
Their labels hum from dusty elves.

Walls fold into a dreamlike sway,
Perspective bends, aisles intertwine;
Where groceries dwell in lines divine,
The hermit shops, the world away.




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