Schools For The BlindA Poem by Abigale LeCavalierSchools For The Blind It's not as if the heart were winter, torn in the ice under brandy colored skies. It is ripe fruit and go ahead and take it; there are no more walls and clear fields for miles, for miles. The Sun shines always the water clear the bread very sweet soil tilled animals tended children cared for the grounds are spotless! Absolutely spotless. Her skin is cool milk blood the same as her mothers; shes a giver a provider a romantic a poet a lover and a fool. Yet not absent-minded turning the dirt for dead, she collects stares and Forget-me-not's instead of kisses or letters. She collects pockets full of broken fingernails, instead of Valentines or roses. © 2016 Abigale LeCavalier |
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Added on May 22, 2016 Last Updated on May 22, 2016 Author
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