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In third grade we were just amorphous blobs,
  by fifth grade, we'd been sorted.
Princes, princesses, also-rans,
  and of course, the unrewarded.

I was the budding knight,
  and you the fragile flower.
Funny how I didn't notice then
  the missing petals in the dower.

It came as a suprise to me,
  that the sorting never stops
You'll think you've won
  the fight is done
And then the other shoe drops.

Sorted and resorted,
  measured, and come up short,
Until one day, finally, you realize
  you never were the sort.

To save the day, to sweep the fray,
  you'll never play the part
Sword and polished shield can't save
  a child with a half-formed heart.

Things we couldn't touch or see,
  things we couldn't say
Kept us from our sleep at night,
  and stole the waking day.

Perhaps it doesn't matter now,
  but from one fairytale to another,
I should have been a better dad,
  and you a better mother.

true love

◄ Sorcerer's Apprentice

A Storm Was Raging ►


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Wed 25th Oct 2017 21:48

Here I am again Eric. This seldom happens to me , but WOL is full of nice surprises and keeps us knocking. Very nice to have a reaction and your comment on mine made me realize that poems can dig deep into the mind.

Thank you.


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Eric Maynard

Wed 25th Oct 2017 15:56

This is a was inspired by /meant as a companion to:

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