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We Are Stories Apr 2015
-Sunday, the twenty second of February-
I held a sunflower in my cold hands
For the first time in twelve years-
I cautiously stroked the petals
Like a small child holding fragile life in his palms,
Knowing that with one slight pull he could crush
its very existence-
I smiled-
I looked up to the blue sky and thought of you-
The way you hold me in your hands-
I placed my yellow sunshine in my breast pocket,
And I began to think of the way you've carried
me through this Florida weather.

— The End —