Loves
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Green
When I think of the color green, I think of the trees behind my school. In kindergarten, when kids were cruel and words hurt more than sticks or stones, the trees were there.
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The wind blows the grass down
Why can the wind
Be blowing
That piece of grass down
One moment
And not the next?
There’s a scientific answerI bet
And usually that’s what I’m looking for.
But it felt poetic that way, -
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A few Julys ago
Remember the girl?
She’s in second grade,
Maybe
Blond brown curls
Blue green eyes.
She’s sitting on the top metal pole of the fence
Chipped green paint
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Fields of Stars (of Women)
I want to see fields
Of girls
Standing tall to the sun,
Their imperfections
Shined upon the brightest,
Their souls sparkling
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