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Sunday, May 20, 2012


A ten year old plays

   On a warm summer day.

        Molding dirt and water

                Into pottery clay.

                                  Awaken napping mother

                                          Sad faced strangers

                                                Are at the door

                                                         Live is changed evermore.

                                                                  Flowered laden coffin

                                                                      Will soon be passed

                                                                             Gazing down at white patent shoes

                                                                                      On tailored green grass.

The pottery rests

     From no more play.

         A child grew old

              On one summer day.

                           The wind has dried

                               And blown the clay


                                                         Away to God.

I was ten years old...I was making pottery in the backyard with dirt and water. I set them under the hot western sun to dry. The doorbell rang and I answered it. Strangers had come with sad news. My stepdad had been accidentally electrocuted at his job as a lineman....Life was changed forevermore.
I was the child that grew old on one summer day.
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