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A SMALL GRAVE UNDER THE OAK TREE

An oak tree
Waiting for just a smidge of attention
Its branches hung there
Limp
Calling out
Asking me to come and play
But, look!
In the shadows
Near the upturning root
Flowers growing
Cold and silent
Baby’s breath
Queen Ann’s lace
Daffodils with their dusty yellow petals
Sitting in the darkness,
A small headstone
Growing cold with the blowing wind
A small body
A tiny baby
Loved by all
But not living to see her
Second birthday
Shriveling under the dark brown earth
A sob
A shake
A shiver
Silence





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