Life Story - Poem by Val Morehouse
There is something raw in the taking,
an ordinary sadness that
blackens in the bottom of the cup.
Here a fly is swatted,
wings winking past.
There butterflies ripped from flight.
The grasshopper jerking back
legless in weeds.
Bumbles, bugs, dropped petals
everyday coffins that ripen into insignificance
like lost chances.
Something delicate delivers itself,
need wrapped around each moment
split end to end
only to have it happen again.
Star-like and beautiful
the ant dies
crushed, and pungent.
Do we live only for this?
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