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Dec 2014
Just as I placed flowers into an empty vase this day
I remember folding that flapping bird many years ago
And with the same care

It is hands and how they move objects through space
How briefly they transpose boundaries across time and distance
And locally how they bring the here into the now

Our hands are driven of course by motivated need
The willingness to be diverted for a while
When perhaps they would better serve by just not being hands

When you walk upon the hands they become feet
When you talk with your hunger you become greed
When you love with loneliness you become origami

These chrysanthemums will not live long in fresh air
Just as dreams of far off moments will not become flesh again ever
But for a day or longer may they lift my spirits

Flapping into the still air beyond my window looking always on the past.
Tommy Randell
Written by
Tommy Randell  67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK
(67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK)   
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