October 7, 2014
To You,
fostered from a forgotten heap
by thought-filled architects who
send one hundred whispered wisdoms
into the empty cups of my ears
disrupting dusty abstraction
long settled in the hot air of my head.
One hundred pillow fingered hands
tilt my chin into light
and ease open locked jaws
to taste the fresh fruit and air
that will rouse my stagnant cells.
Your Friend,
A
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