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New Era

  • Priscilla Alonzo
  • Sep 20, 2019
  • 1 min read

The water drips off the petals from what once was frost

the same way your past tugs at your sleeve.

They all forget the dry grass

that you would see on your way home,

covered with the motherly I know what's best for you sleet of ice

when the smell of green rises from the Earth.

I am proud of you, though,

for getting through the zero degree weather.

When your teeth would chatter and your fingertips numb.

To the point where you would no longer feel anything.

You allowed yourself to see

the birds fly back home

the pollen in the air

your new beginning.

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