Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Day 13 - By the shed

In a garden of cloudspun light,
some dreams, like wings, lie broken.
They could have lifted her
on up to worlds unspoken

She picks them up no matter
and puts them back together.
Like many times in sun
and many in bad weather.

The bric nick nacks of daily life
morph in her hands of flurry.
Amid these grand contraptions,
the inventor starts to hurry.

She blows away the engine oil
she welds the parts together.
Attaches gears and counterweights,
fine balanced as a feather.

No ordinary road for her,
no desk job strong and steady.
She yearns for future greatness
unaware she's great already.

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