Poetry Month #1: Child

When happy thoughts come

We must tear them to pieces, shred them with our logic and foresight

Cast them out of the tent into the dark

To the wolves


When a sad thought comes

We must hold on to it

Like our only last child wrapped in soft blankets

Watch it like a father, like a mother, like a brother

Keep it safe from all that is outside

A precious piece of our hearts

We can never

Let go


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