Pieces

A hand filthy and spoiled but clean
A sooty shake won’t smear a heart,
the legs look muscular but lean 
The miles must have been way too smart,
 journeys ahead with eyes so keen
tardy yet never missed a start.

A neck too long to hold the thoughts
above the clouds, it hardly sees
two feet so steady on the ground
until a while, a little while
striding by chance in the wrong place 
when to pieces all blew apart.

The blast left just too much behind 
collect them all or recollect 
To fantasize what those pieces 
Would possibly mean whole alive.

May 17, 2017

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