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2016-04-16 — Poetry · NaPoWriMo — Tags: NaPoWriMo, youth, memory

Gripping the crumbling surface

Holding to dust

Turning to dust

Back when we were young

And knew, or thought so

When life was clear

Instead of questions

We knew

Made choices without the responsibilities

Now we see

Simple wingbeats cause hurricanes

And step back from decisions

And think before we act.

 

 

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