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Oak Trees

shed that shell

translucently

lacquered

by childhood

 

that insect

fluttering behind

the ivory

bars of your ribcage

was once buried

under funerary mosses

of a fallen oak tree

three hundred years

of aged silence

basking in it's demise

saying

"I stretched

to the heavens

but they scurried away

every night of every day"

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Written by
my-name-here
Published
Jan 22, 2013
Lines·Words
19·53
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