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11.
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Silver Shard
Freeze for a moment, silver
shard,
delicate ice, lodged deep in my
heart, one sliver of cold,
so cold it can freeze
the whole enchilada.
Now when I walk around this
world, I do not feel the same breezes
ruffling my long hair, nor see
the same whirl of colors, but
everything has grown still, like
photographs of old men, hung
in silver frames, silently in
the long hall.
Now, everything has grown still,
like photographs of old men hung
in silver frames, and I do not think,
I do not think, that this silver ice
will melt into the spring. I do not
think that this silver ice will melt into
the spring, but that it will remain,
still as a photograph, strong as an
old man, until I climb it, like stairs,
into another world.
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