To caress a lover's face
or wipe a tear
from a silken cheek that blushes red;
I cannot lift my arms
to hold so dear,
to tenderly show I care -
my limbs are dead.
The heart inside my breast
still beats in time.
It pushes blood and air
throughout this shell.
I take each step throughout
each day in line
and smile and say
that all is well.
I yearn to race out
into the sun and scream
melt this plastic
thing that I've become!
Return me to the Earth
so I can sprout anew again.
A mourning dove sings its
sad song above my head,
perched in a tree older
than my family history.
The sorrowful dirge
tempts my soul back to bed.
I leave the sun.
Tomorrow is another time for glory.
I catch the image of a child
in the corner of my eye
before I retire to my gray reverie.
As I turn to face the little one
the little one turns to look at me,
and we both smile at each other.
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