Thursday, February 20, 2014

Adam Abbas


The family went outside as it snowed softly
And the drunken father sang an ode softly

For their pet spadefoot toad who died of wanderlust
Whose gorgeous wise eyes always glowed softly

They buried its shoebox the home and the tomb
As girls and dogs atop sleds rode softly

Down rolling hills where the father once found the toad
Lying on one side by a stream that flowed softly

He had laid it in his canoe and continued his journey
Bearing the gasps for home as he rowed softly

At the right time
In front of enemies
You finally grew into your own

Time to
Bury angels
It takes little effort
They’re easily swept away with
Their wings

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