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I won’t pretend
to be someone else –
a shadow of myself
a petal
ne’er the same
could be a rose
or the scent of distant meadows
a thorn unto the blush
a slender glass
becoming –
some other mother’s home
I won’t pretend
the music takes me
where I cannot hear the storm
the beat
of one lone drummer
wrapping sorrow
into a song
I won’t pretend
the silence threatens
from a place beyond the dawn
from a life
I scarce remember
how it felt
to be alone

. . .