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Poem For You

I started this poem with a flower and it was raining crackling in sheets across the roof. It was late and I should have already been asleep. The thunder struck close and I was startled. That flower had long since drowned and my poem had gone to rot, but the point is no matter how I begin some piece of you always crops up -- whether it is your strong jaw, your country twang, or your mutilated thumb. Because that flower I was thinking of is on the struggling rosebush that your mother planted in your childhood front yard.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 3/2/2011 7:13:00 AM
Very nice poem...Jimmy
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things