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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:15:10 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 82654
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => For my children
[time] => 2005-02-02 15:32:50
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => If it were up to me I would ask death to wait for an October Sunday just after dusk, the seventh game of the World Series an hour away. I’d make iced tea the slow way, let it brew till it was dark as the inside of an urn, then I’d pour it into the old mugs I have and love. I’d think about the sea, sand castles we have built, how one of us cried at sunset when waves taught us the ache of letting go. We’d sip tea with sugar share a red bowl of popcorn and I’d be grateful for it all: our family’s pain and sweetness, that love survived these seasons and forgiveness eased us into second chances. I’d ask for one last dance the three of us close, Jackson Browne singing “The Loadout” and I’d beg Death to take me then, before the music ended and let the last touch of my life be your life breath upon me. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 160 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Katiebird [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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