Shadow paints the grass, darker
Locks itself inside the grey
which whispers insistently “stay small”
I wonder, sometimes, what would have happened
If you had let yourself out more?
Would your specialness have been vacuumed
from your words or would it have been
magnified? We’ll never know, ofcourse.
But I sit beside this tree, one of
your trees and I stare into the
shadow it leaves and I think
about you
See more progress on: Do NaPoWriMo 2010 (A Poem a day in April)
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