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Friday, January 30, 2009



Nuances pile up:

the subtle breath,

the watched glanced at,

the window looked out,

the “darn it” said with all the venom of “damn it”

all picked up casually like little carpet sweepings from parents,

and older children;

till they become not just a pile of nuances,

but our personality.

© Steven Fletcher

January 29, 2009

Posted by Steven Fletcher at 5:33 AM
Categories: Education, Poetry