Between the Cone and the Bleed
The young smile behind ice cream cones.
Crying when they scrape a knee.
The elders puff up behind fine machines.
Imploding when life has broken into pieces.
Tranquility lies somewhere in between.
Everything is temporary like a beech or a breeze.
Somewhere between the cone and the bleed.
Take a breath-pray to have appreciation for the day,
For just living.
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