A small, still green umbrella of a tree stood its ground in the graveyard , just as a soldier might against the bloody rust and decay of the last battle. And there you sat; such a life-like resurrection I left my body to come and see a stranger rose and went by instead, kicking up leaves and each mid-October your going nudges the ribs breaking in again to the heart centre - that nugget you left for us to invest we still waste
These 10 lines dedicated to the memory of a devoted friend and teacher – and written for A Splash of Rust and Gold – Micro Poetry
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