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Apr 2017
Digging after some small perfect diamond
To place into a hand that never fondled one before
Nor could even hold one now,
It’s corporeal being burned away in grieving,
I reach for my pen
I cannot find it with my vision pulsing so in liquid sorrow.
It is mislaid among the clutter
That ***** traps my days and roils my mind in darkened hours
      
Written by
Lori Jones McCaffery  F/Laughlin, Nevada
(F/Laughlin, Nevada)   
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