The fire roared
Consuming what was once tree
And the sap of life
drained from the wood
made the fire crackle.
Everything turned to ashes
But the warmth touched our bones
does that mean I’ve a bit
of that tree in me
now?
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See AllA tiny tendril escapes From the yellow -brown stalk Life salvaged from nearly-crumbling-into-the-soil I smile triumphant I think of my mother And her fifty-three pots Of lilies, orchids, roses Even a
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