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Pink Feathers

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There was something in me that loved to climb; sadly that thing, in the end, settled down; peeking up tree skirts no more fills my time; I’ve learned to live with my feet on the ground

But some days, some days, the branches still call; I’ll stand there eyeing a low-hanging limb, forgetting old bodies break when they fall— fingers and lax muscles itch with the whim

to reach! to grab! to hold on for dear life! branch after branch, to haul these old bones up where the wind blades through me slick as a knife, where leaf-dappled sunshine tops off my cup

I’ve much settled down while doing my time but still something in me so loves to climb.

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Ruth posts daily on FB under A Poem A Day… please like and follow her, she is amazing! Here is a link to Original post on FaceBook.

 

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