Light rises
into windsong and laughter
and across the street
children swat a ball
and laugh and run.
Once I was a child
of laughter and light,
unfraught days
and nights of lilac and honeysuckle.
Trees reach up and out
perhaps in thankfulness.
Do they remember their
saplinghood,
their struggle for light?
A slim blond child skips by,
ponytail bouncing.
I want her to celebrate.
I want her to understand:
Life is incurable.
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