When the News comes on

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When the News comes on

and they stare with bunny rabbit eyes

at the world falling apart

I dare them to run

right into the fire

~

Have they not entered already?

Have they not felt the burn-

-the melting of skin under shallow words of woe?

When they say that word

the one starting with a ‘T’

I sigh and make myself a cup of Tea

and I wade into the morning sun

soaking up the unburdened air 

~

A morning  without words to pave the way

One that does not promise a woeful day

 

 

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