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Yellow metal teeth
have ripped out
the green of your heart.

The soaring oaks
are stranded husks
grasping at steel patches
of morning

and the drizzle
has feathered
your sinews to mud.

The boy who I used to be
swirled marbles on your slopes,
lit Beltane bonfires
and watched hawks hover
in early morning silence.

As brown wounds
bleed earth,

I touch the roots
of your bones
and watch the rain wash away

all that is left.

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The following comments are for "Watching Stones Grow"
by eliot

eliot's hills of brokenhearts
eliot- Really enjoyed this.

"as brown wounds bleed earth." -Cool.

To hearts of green,
Robert William

( Posted by: Bobby7L [Member] On: March 9, 2006 )

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