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  • It is old concrete
    Gray, lifeless, crumbling
    Exposed to the elements
    Which over time
    Erode the corners
    Leaving only
    Raspy edges
    Waiting to grab
    Hold of strangers
    Passing by
    Only to let go
    And fall away
    With the first
    Impatient tug.

    It is a dark puddle
    Of water left by rain
    Inviting the splash of feet
    Droplets flying to
    Soak the shoes
    And pant legs
    Of small children
    Provoking giggles
    And laughter
    And frowns of mothers
    Looking through windows
    And calling to the bairns
    Come in
    Come in.


    It is a heart
    Overripe and rotting
    Like an apple
    Fallen from its tree and
    Left too long
    On the ground
    Flesh turning brown
    And soft
    Pulsing, not
    With the flow of life's blood
    But the wigglings
    Of worms
    And steady march
    Of ants.
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