(x = space)

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The Heart

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I breathe a little

Saturday morning

Last moments

Before noon

When I would be called upon

For chores

Last free moments

Watching another show

As an excuse

Pretending its significance

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Did I have a heart defect

Back then

We’ll never know

Or was I put to work

Too soon

Or was it the lesson that

Work is bad

And I should only be glad

When it’s done

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Whichever way

I was a child who

Wanted to

Escape

And on rainy days

I sat in a chair next to a lamp

In the room saved for

Official company

And rather than

All that

I took the quiet

And went into books

With

Stories that saved

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The mind

The heart

Everything that mattered

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C L Couch

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Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

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