Simple

July 18, 2008
By Marguerite Sacerdote, New York, NY

Why would I want to be simple,
when I could strive to be different,
in every way?
When I could make eloquent passages,
out of things that I say.
When a sunrise could be:

"Wisps of colors thrown every which way,
across the sky's great canvas,
ERUPTING into a new day!"

But,
like eating on laced doilies,
the concept seems silly.
To make every word more,
teasing letters 'til they're frilly.
Until "simple" is no longer,

Just that.


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