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Writer's pictureBethany Stimac

rumors

something i had heard

among the gossip of

the trees


in hurried-hushed

whispers

rumored through

the leaves


felt the flower-flushed

fields fell in love with

the breeze


while sometime between

the then and the now

a little ladybug asked

a why and a how


for death, it does not

want to dolefully bow


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