Seeds shuffled in my palms seemed
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so real, scuffled amoungst the dirt
brown and grey with age.
Green inside like
their tough and thickened cage.
Five am with an hour of driving
behind, and still to go.
You come down the stairs,
all haze and blunted excitement.
Uncontained and new.
You fed my pent up rage, or maybe
a personal cage of brown and
Weathered through the storm,
unshamed, but damaged by the rain.
Twenty-four hours of reality still
twenty minutes to go.
Lying in your lap and speaking
unconcious words to you.
Love tossed about on waves of conversation seemed
so real, brave like ship-wrecked captains
you and I.
Red and white inside like
our tough and thickened cage.
"God grant me distraction."