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February 16, 2015 , , ,

I am sitting at the end of the old, salt-stung jetty

The wind whispers insistently


My heart leaps and retreats

A butterfly in an open jar

I stretch my wings and they ache

Unused from winter

My cheeks are too pale, too clean

My brown eyes smart form the laughing wind

Colliding with my warm cocoon

I am at a crossroad

But a little more reticent

Deliberately older and painted wiser

My leaps of faith are made with a pencilled outline

And I hold pencil and paintbrush

Aching heart

Aching limbs

I am learning to fly once again!

Words: September 2008

Photo: Barbara Bleckly, February 2015

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