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The Way Of It

Rating: 3.4

With her fingers she turns paint
into flowers, with her body
flowers into a remembrance
of herself. She is at work
always, mending the garment
of our marriage, foraging
like a bird for something
for us to eat. If there are thorns
in my life, it is she who
will press her breast to them and sing.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Angela Wright 19 August 2005

this is stunning! beautiful dedication of love....

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