I was reading through a poem a wrote today and was going to post and (sometimes as it does), everything I was saying in this longer poem was right in one little stanza. I decided I didn’t really need the rest of the poem.


Sometimes it’s not a lover’s kiss or the loss of a grandmother’s touch

That blow away the dreams that break your heart.

Sometimes it’s the loss of a feeling that made you who you are

That blows away the knowledge of what you’re here for now.

Purpose motionless as two trees side by side

That know how badly they want to touch

Instead now just speak in scarce movements through a quiet rustle inside each other.

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