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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2130648
Reflecting on the time my son first went through the temple
When every day
falls pale and faded,
meting light enough to see by
but no warmth

sometimes joy breaks—
a single beam sidelong
through water drop on window—
scattering bright ribbons
across my pillow

till earth shifts,
and each gleaming thread
gradually gathers,
reweaves into one.

As afternoon wears on
toward evening,
I'll pull out this small moment
to study and consider
how happiness stood still
and let me count its colors.

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Messages on the Water http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/merrijane
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