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it was
     a dastardly decision
         deeming fated
         to deny a future

filled with dismay
     furtive deeds     designed to forget

the futility of dark days
i have, it seems, always loved Sylvia Plath.  This is  a reflection on losing her far too soon.

if you know someone whom you worry about losing in the same way do all you can to get them help. stay w them. let them know how their demise would affect you and those they’ve touched.  call the hotline, call an ambulance.  pray, do that voodoo you do.  intercede.  their life may depend on it.
I bear my soul to U

U slam the doors of your heart

I come to U                In my finery

                    The alter is empty

I weep a river

Plagiarize  the Hoover dam

I search 4 U         In the shadows

       But U are silent       to my call of Marco...

i ride a moonbeam  in the hope i’ll see Ur          
                         U             steal her luminosity

                         leaving me in pitch black

i reach out hungry for
                                 Ur reassuring touch

                  but the sheets are smooth oand cold

i crumble in a sobbing heap
                                         my spirit lost without U
her grandmother        stood at the window in the kitchen

             the corners of her mouth turned up into
                  an unconscious slight smile
                  at the sight
                             of a spinning yellow blur  
                              under the big oak
                              in the middle of the pasture
                              surrounded by green grasses
                                                       wonderous hues of wildflowers

she quietly called out to grandad
                             come see this

                the lanky cowboy sauntered in
                             from the breezeway
                             with his umpteenth cup of coffee
                              peered at the blur of yellow
                              opened the side door
                              stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and
                                   called out in his smooth baritone voice

                                      sheeeeeelllllliiii  lllllloooooooooo...

she might have
                             been 4
                                   or perhaps five

              precious in the way
                  innocent girls that age are

               dressed in smocked yellow lawn
                                                white lace
                                                patent leather

                                                  up to her shins in spring grasses
      slowing her spin
      she turned toward her name

       her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two
      then broke into an off kilter run
                                                 arms stretched out before her

      he took a few long strides
bent his tall body low
offering a bent knee
                 wide open arms

she flew into them with all her might
                   knowing she would be caught
                   rough housed with
                   and given a wickereye


                   from the window her grandmother took it all in
                                said to herself
                                         hold this dear
                                         hold this snapshot of the soul

                                         for.                           ever.
my granddad and i had a love-love-andmore-love based relationship.  he’s my greatest hero and the man John Wayne wished he was in real life.  we worshiped each other and i will forever and all ways n always hold him close in my heart.  what a lucky girl i’ve been!
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