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In Cupped Hands

In cupped hands you hold a world of scented butterflies where time hangs from a golden thread spun with tears and night where nasturtiums grow from seeds of laughter and there is warmth over the rainbow. In cupped hands you see a castle hovering in the air with domes of silver pointing toward a world that lies beyond with long-drawn windows shaped like almond eyes that wink and call upon a winding wind. In cupped hands you preserve an unspoken dream that is stilled in a cosmos pool dappled with sunlight that may all be lost with just a jerk of your fingers and shatter into illusions of watercolor paintings. In cupped hands you nestle the lost ending to a song In cupped hands you hold a glimpse of what is real.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

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Date: 11/20/2017 12:26:00 PM
This, like so many of your poems, is such great writing and imagery.
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Date: 6/22/2010 6:01:00 AM
It is a pleasure to be reading your poetry this morning Grace. Wishing you a wonderful day filled with an overload of inspiration. Hoping you will challenge yourself to use all the inspiration which you may receive today. Love, Carol
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