September 27, 2017
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Each word I wrote transformed from ink to prose
As rivers led to oceans, led to waves
Of thoughts too strong for small minds to compose
In verse or lyrics ‘fore we reached our graves.
Volcanoes spewed hot lava from our heads
And quakes rocked lives like ours until they froze.
The baby’s cradle shook, just like the beds
Of gardners’ precious pink blooms of Primrose.
A hurricane split houses through the core
So each would fall, a line of dominoes
Too straight for twisted shells along the shore,
Too curved for quiet walks through lone meadows.
But though the world was rough, the ocean deep,
Each word preserved our tiny lives to keep.

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