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February 11, 2005 - A poem about  Situations

Temperance and Care.

Away palid sirens
And playground harpies
That tease and clutch
Your unworn soul.
Begone such cruel bringers
Of growth’s nag and poke
And innocence ground
In circumstance beyond.
Forget their shrill voiced
Cries and winsome pangs
And crack’d tears -
And shudderings of age.
Be strong, my quiet one
Though humble and bruised
Still, like a first fallen pear
Brave in dawn-lost day.
You give wind to us
Amidst doubter’s lull
Becalmed by spite
But pushed along.


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