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Jun 2014
It is no accident that we have palms
With fingers extending from them
For when we unite our two hands,
They become a blooming flower.
We can follow the veins with our eyes
From fingertips to hearts
Blushing red.

Pumping into us another day
Another hope
Another dream
To find within ourselves the petals
To water faithfully.

I have watered fatefully.
Yet my flower has grown too long
In chilly dark basements
With mold growing in the corners and
Cobwebs decorating cracking walls.

I’ve only the strength to crack a thin beam of light
To dance upon the corners of my flower.
When will the music invite more?
Mariya Timkovsky
Written by
Mariya Timkovsky
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