Vexation In the Garden
where shall I run
if the dormant grass remains
to prick my bare soles
as I scurry to the other side
in pursuit of this child
whom I would give my very life
though her life may not mirror my own
the string in her hand
that balloon in the sky
seem so simple at sunset
the clouds agree
not to deter this memory
with lightning, thunder
and tears
twilight would never lie
soot of man can touch tomorrow
when tomorrow
touches her, I pray
it is with hands
as gentle, as mine
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