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Thursday, April 26, 2012

Broken


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Flowers lying on the ground. Stalks bent
In wind too strong to bear and broke.
It was a simple thoughtless joke
to zephyrs, that they hardly meant.

Pieces glitter on the floor.  No shard
remains much bigger than the dust.
Lost grip, wet glass, and gravity just
took the counter-top off guard.

A stiff dove lying on the sidewalk. Dead?
Her mate still flutters near to ask.
The futile nest lies cold, forgotten task,
For only one life gone, for one snapped thread.

Words spoken in the heart.  The unsought strength
to kill but more than flower, glass, bird,
Defeat the heart and joy of the beloved with a word
And it will not return for any length.


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