Terracotta Clay

October 25, 2009
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She stares
Sweat forming a red puddle
On the hard packed earth
Digging her toe
Into that one place where he used to stand
Her brother
Tall and powerful like the plantain tree
She wipes her hand
Running it slowly down the spine
Of the ground
Feeling every mar
Dipping her finger into
The terracotta clay
Trailing it across her face
Mimicking the dry tears
That won’t come
Wanting badly to pour
From her solitary brown eyes
And remembered him
His strong powerful stance
That she once believed
Was as sturdy as the plantain tree.

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Paig3Cagl3 said...
Nov. 10, 2009 at 3:00 pm
This poem has great flow and insight.
I really enjoyed it.
Lovely poem darling =]
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XxThe Whole Time You Were Talking I Didnt Hear A Single Word You Said B/C Th3 Whole Time You Were Talking I Was Picturing You DeadXx
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