I know you birthed me 
in the blue clay of Kentucky
hoping I’d take stubborn
root and grow
hard for future winters,
but I’m not a cedar
or a pine, or a pluck
of white burley—
but a little white
clay sipping butterfly
flitting off to bright
colors in foreign
gardens looking
for cool drinks
of blue clay 
elsewhere
in the world. 

2 months ago
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  5. whisperingdreams-decayed said: This is beautiful.
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