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Barefoot on Thin Ice


She changed her name
She changed her name a lot.
Never understood.
Something to hide.
But she had the courage of the wind
The grace of the trees
And one special thing:
She felt.
Her soul was her ring.
We met the silence.
Crunc hing through the crunchy snow of breakup,
Looking for the tree.
There it was.
Leaning on the fork of the next tree.
Death with dignity.
We sat on it
A bit of a hop
Hung on to the survivor
And met.
We knew
And the stump knew
But the chipmunks were silent.
We held hands
Walked slowly back to the house.
Stopped at the door
And wondered.
 
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