Whoops! I just reread the prompt and realized I didn't really do...basically any of it. Oh well. This is the result of me reading the prompt in the morning, forgetting most of it apparently, and writing my poem in the evening. Ember will see a dead animal on the side of the road and cry,
But I just wince, the world having worn my empathetic bones weary. Ember knows she is strong and believes she can fly, But I won't leap for lack of trust in the landing. Ember knows the names of the plants in the forest and the stars in the sky, But I have only the memory of once possessing such knowledge. Experience, prudence, wisdom: Euphemistic consolation prizes To replace what has been lost to Time.
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AuthorHi, my name is Ember. Yes, like the glowing bits at the bottom of the fire. Archives
May 2024
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