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On Borrowed Time

We know it
without the written word
escalating like a tsunami
to swallow up our breathless hearts
complex and compound our genre of hope
as we burst out
with a hue and cry
from the warmth of the womb
esoteric as always
in a penitentiary of pleasurable pain
we cry for joy
and let our mothers
impose a smile on their faces
and with bright eyes
a dazzling fantasy of life
changes the echo
as it ricochets in the wind
reading our rights
each of us in a different way
on borrowed time.
Leonard Dabydeen
Sunday, May 16, 2010
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COMMENTS
i liked the title...we are always on borrowed time!
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