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secreted away
as the eldest daughter
of a favored son
a will that gave
away the farm
was never mine to give
how much of these
were pardon
for the ways I am
with you
how much I gave
without a thought
of all there was
to lose
morning sits
beyond the frost
as sure is warmth
to come
carried by
the wondering of
who was I before
a sideways glance
to alter fate
a cloud to hide
the moon
more than this
as heaven here –
of truth

. . .