March 7, 2009
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I walk down a cold empty grey street
with closed shops and cracked concrete.
Only ravens fly in the dull cloudy sky
and they make no noise as they pass by.

I come across a broken black flowerpot
that sits grimly in an overgrown lot.
Shattered glass blocks the icy ground
and as I tread through, there is no sound.

I clutch on to a shriveled old Bugloss seed
which grips to life with a ravenous greed.
I bury it deep into a layer of thick brown dirt
and in the flowerpot it will grow and bring us hope.

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