Some things cannot be captured by camera
But on paper
Ink to page
Like the way the sun on the tree outside is iridescent
And twinkling on the branches
Sending me signals to heal all of my broken places
To chase the sun in my kitchen leading me outside
To see the sparkling snow raining down in a flurry of magical whimsy
I can see
All of my love
Surreal and wispy
Yet firmly planted
Silver branches
Greying in the mirror
There is totality
By the black hole of the
Sun
My face gets lost in its pages
But the lines they speak
Tell the whole story
By Kimberly A. Cavanagh
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