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Jun 2013
Small things dispensed with a shrug that make most people cry and rock.
Groping around at each other mentally,

Hold me lightly,
hold me tightly
random minutes of total understanding,

as weΒ Β plead mendigas,
Things unexpected
from the people the world know.

I can't remember a word
you spoke to me that first year
Except that you loved me

Argh!
I remember telling you
you never spoke to me.

You laced your way
around the delicate fabric
of time to give me
this period of leavening
as we travelled different directions,
your gift of ages.

A love so large and hope as thin as a filament.
A broken heart is no small thing.

As I try to shrug.
2nd Quadrant Revisited; mental mingles transcendence poetry, exploration & tactics; gelly surfer dust stories; silly spells; buck bait
Yolanda Smith
Written by
Yolanda Smith  The house I grew up in
(The house I grew up in)   
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