square takes the circle.A Poem by Brooke Nicole Plummerhave you ever been an amateur builder and wonder why you've lost your land?Calendar marked: The season, The anti-joy, the down faller, I've become just as iced over as the sickles upon your newly held household Remember when the rubble was the merriment blueprint, An epitome of what you could own, What you could string and possess, That was me, darling You've settled for chipped blue paint on a broken home, Migrated to an irresolute complex next to town hall, Pink stains from the end of palms, Your daily reminders, reminders, reminders This house is a graveyard, Barbed wire and the highest of walls, Constructed for you a haven, Tore it down without grace, Beautifully like a funeral, I hear the morning expects earthquakes. © 2011 Brooke Nicole Plummer |
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1 Review Added on April 16, 2011 Last Updated on April 16, 2011 Author
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