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The apple tree bloomed
in lemon drops.
What did it know?
Smelling sweet,
was as much
a success,
as what it might ever grow.

She walked through
rubbing palms on leaves of  blue,
wondering why, here,
even trees
had lost the thought
of what to do

glory colors burst through
in butterfly wings,
strange imaginings,
unknown
unsolved clues
no warning,
its stinger
biting through;

eyes large, mouth round
she pulled her ashes out
to drop them,
trembling

ancient heartache,
seeking balm.

rock to rock
water crossed,
steps on paper feet
careful movement
whispered cries,
on and over
to the other side;
softly settling
balance forward
self denied,
to find at last
no difference there
and she hung her head
and cried.

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