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Keeling Oct 2015
It was never anticipated. In slow motion that only lasted a few seconds, his arms shot up into the orange tinted sky and he was flipped in a perfect circle until he landed on his bottom with a dull thud. Then came the cries. In the bubble of time, the echoes of his cries were not piercing. Instead I heard soft whimpers, and then progressive sobs dribble out of his small mouth, that was wrinkled into a frown. My heart broke as I idiotically stared at the little boy whose nose was dripping with snot, soft wavy hair that was matted with leaves, and whose bitable cheeks were blotted red as a cherry. The boy in the purple jumpsuit.
Snow crystals fall on
And grace her thick
Deep-Brown 4b curls,
On her long eyelashes,
Melt on her brown cheeks
And her bitable lush lips,
Thicker and heavier they fall
On her puffy jacket
On her cold hand in my hand
On her boots and small bookbag.
They adorn her like
Tiny stars in the night.
And I photograph the moment
In this poem
To last til the end of time.

— The End —