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a thoughtful moment a reflection of a face and a remembered lost opportunity to touch. In the heart of my soul my garden is tenderly watered coaxing old roots and new sprouts to live and grow death is like that laying quietly for so long earth regurgitates its dust and another turns it over what is left behind has just begun to be and so we plant seed we apply sweat and tears and whisper tiny hopefuls that we have all the things we need to make life new again. When I am in my garden now I shall practise laughing if the locusts come to eat it all then I shall eat the locust.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2012-03-30 15:43:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, What's good about your writing especially for me, is how you share your emotion. This is the objective of poetry we tend to lose sight of. "Nothing matters except she 's gone [friend, mother] concept." You write to tell of what matters to you. Good job my dear I love gardens and I'd eat whatever to live. Dellena
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