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I. The light of day unraveled Drove rain in fists of wind Trounced the sound Shrill its shearing fabric The wet black-top hurled back moonlight In shimmering frantic fractures,
Outside, the rays of sunshine that glide through the green canopies of river birch trees And land on me, a three-year-old filled with glee
The way he touched me, Internally caressed, I could feel the chemistry, From the bottom of my feet, Infinitely on my breast, Respect. Is all he gave while stroking my thigh,
To Grace, my almost big girl: You’re nine, Running around and playing, Making messes, Having mom clean them up, Crying about scraped knees, And telling everyone you love them.
Dear best friend, You once told me "Trust is like a piece of paper. Art paper, blank paper, wide ruled, college-ruled--it didnt matter. Paper comes in many form, just like trust.