Fifty-four: I’m Early and I’m Glad

It is not yet time.

The winds lifts a smile
and pours it over the
sunshine-mottled sidewalks.
Hope is swaying in the breeze,
sprinkling down like spring.

Ancient stones are falling
into place and no longer am I
in the core of the apple but
peeling away,
stone by surrendering stone,
until I  am no longer a wall
but, coaxed, a smiling hole.

February 2010

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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