miracle
I smelled what I thought were freshly
cut roses
the color red I imagined
softly brilliant in slender glass vase
I felt the velveted petals between
thumb and finger
reminding me of feathers
I once patiently nurtured back to flight
I heard the beating of a restless heart
pressed against
innocent skin exposed to light
newly created and wrinkled in fear
I dreamed of tasting a perfect fruit
innocently sweet
and promising flawless eyes
witnessing unimaginable happenings
august two thousand fourteen
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