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A younger man than
the limbless stump
watched his soul take flight,
brown, bent twigs where leaves had grown
wet beneath the early showers.

He watched her go,
a light whiter than
the mortar that turned his bones
to a bright red fog.

When arms were not yet imagination
but seemed as insubstantial
she slipped away to another life
and he to the mortarís arc.

But he watched her go
those long years ago
as he sits today watching,
watching her walk away.

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The following comments are for "Wheelchair"
by r1067r

You can write for your pleasure and also for mine - great poem! Nice!

( Posted by: jonpenny [Member] On: March 24, 2010 )

Thank you for a brilliant bit of writing.

( Posted by: Pen [Member] On: March 27, 2010 )

I have been remiss
I'm not sure how I missed this but its a damn shame I did. This was wonderful. I'll be watching for more from you. Keep em coming!


( Posted by: HeRoCoMpLeX [Member] On: March 30, 2010 )

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