deepundergroundpoetry.com

Broken

 
 
 
  
 
She delights in the most improbable.  
like breaking her crayons 🖍 to hear the pop.  
a testament to the strength she’s developed in 967 days  
 
But when she’s done  
So are they  
 
She wants no part of the tattered ones  
 
Dutiful father.  
I pick them up  
Not able to teach her  
just yet  
that the tattered ones  
paint the best stories.  
Their armor easily  
And willing shed to provide brilliant texture and contrast  
 
I’ll try to teach her to love  
the broken ones  
Even as they grow smaller and smaller  
Speckled with hubris and laughter  
Tears  
Love  
And the hope  
Of yesterday’s  
yellow sunshine  
And rain  
Green grass.  
birds shaped like m’s  
And clouds made the same way.    
crooked windows  
And tilted doors  
 
I’ll tell her  
Listen to their stories precious one  
so that you may know yours.  
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