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kindred

fleeting blush
of butterflies –
eyes were never blind
strain the gypsy threads
undone by time

hopeful arms of bounty
yearn into
the way
was waiting greener
on the other side

when all we knew
of suffering
is where the parting fell
resting now
beneath the mossy page

nature keeps
no memory
of who was first to die
given up her pen
as flags were raised

spills her tale
as waters rise
to wash away our past
– flutters
neath a vast
forgiving sky

. . .