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saved me

what mirror mine
as daylight breaks
with pencils
once I wrote the sky
forgiving of a moment
I was lost
I was freed
of ink I never thought
to care
assurance never mine
a stronger hand
than e’er
I thought to lead

lined with story
let them change
as I have changed –
retelling of the past
another me
this remembrance
though not for fate
to let
papers split the light
as falling

. . .

I am forever grateful that my life be told with pencil rather than pen, with moments still undecided by the stars.