Tag: 365 Collection
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when I was a boy the side of a cardboard box said my future daughter’s heart would be the same shape as the little bouquet of her fist
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“pay attention! look about! all this precious plenitude is headed for the drain.”
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All we seem to grow are twigs! They need sun. Of course, they need sun.
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can I too, reach out, and accept all I need to live?
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we will not see when morning sun melts it.
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I had an imaginary friend: a giraffe named Lulu.
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His history is whispered, and all identify him for his complexion.
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The oranges have gone a bit soft, the apples are delicately
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low hum door slam clickclack nothing.
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standing there – patiently – as if amused that the fire could spread this way or that
