How is this poem I wrote?

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coffee

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“Solitude”

In the dusky corner, a child is curled
humming to the tune of crystal droplets
drowning her melancholy world.

Tears stain a red stonewall,
as a black brick lies in the center:
still, unspoken, small.

The glimmering moon’s sigh
pervades silently against
splashed midnight dye.

A bare coffee bench outside
is circled by tall dewy bluegrass
and weaved cherry branches aside.

Yonder, in a scarlet leaf bed
a golden maple drizzles and rests
in the midst of entwining red.

A silhouette daydreams nearby,
against a plum, fuschia quilt
blanketed across the sky.

Tranquility.
Equanimity.
Serenity.





Any suggestions?
 
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