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TO THE RETIRED SHOES
Hang the pain
on your mind's wall
like an old hat, a rusted clock.
Finally, time to rest.
And the rose steeped in pain
opened for you
which you refused to sing,
yes, fold it away.
Yet the naked blossom
did nothing
to betray your lonely heart,
nor disturbed your sky;
and from the empty house
the empty words
were spoken, that's quiet now
and your journey ends.
:3/17/05
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