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The Light Goes On In The Attic



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I Am....( a keen observation )

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not the story of my youth

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

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Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

the slave is freed

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

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The Secret Eater

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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

A Man Called Tsuris

For The Loss Of A Ghost Like You

Love A Cat

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I Long For Stars

I Feel Fine(r)

The Crow Is A Songbird

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

And With Words I Let Them Go

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Butterfly Girls Like Me Were Meant To Fly


I was born
a child of the sixties
but minus two short years
I could have been a wild wild-child
from the start
a bright wide-eyed hippie girl

but my bad intentions
taught me to listen
and behave
when I should have been
making friend with much better times
and NOT fine manners
only to have become their slave

and when I tried to settle into
that much narrower space
that didn't match
it was to a sin of true
self-omission
to which I had married and attached

in my past
I was too busy denying
my lightest freer self
and eking out a living with those
malingering on the dustier shelves

but now I know
I was meant for better things
like shedding my old skin and
spreading out my newly colored wings

butterfly girls like me
were always
(in all ways)
meant to fly


LEGAL COPYRIGHT DECEMBER 11 2016
8;10 PM PST FOR THIS WORK BY THIS
AUTHOR FOR THIS SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
MELISSA A HOWELLS/ VINTAGE 1958
GIRL OF DECEMBER

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