Dirt mixed with water
With hands brushing over
Stirring it all together
The seeds planted
Rose and became flowers
In this spring’s Garden
Of undiscovered
Patterns writing out
Nature’s Beauty
We held out hands and took
Caring touch
Our dead did rise again
In a new form for us
Whole again, with replica’s
The presentation of love disappeared
Only to show that other Joys
Could suffice, Until Love’s face returned.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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