The heart of time is drawing closer
if you will listen to her song.
She is a broken bluebird,
ready for her final rest,
yet she sings,
just like your mother
as she was dying,
when she told you
you were a good housekeeper.
We fade away from our tears,
push our anger out or deep inside,
we move anywhere but toward.
Yet this morning, she is on your doorstep,
flecked in stardust.
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