The fruit

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    The fruit



    In darkness he moves with a gymnast’s grace
    oblivious to danger he turns
    pressing forward
    his time not yet come

    Son, enjoy your journey
    Travel slowly – grow into your own
    Fight, take hold of life!
    The world should be yours.

    Says mother weeping
    Father praying
    For God’s presence in surgeon’s hands
    be still my unborn son
    now is not your time







    In memory of William Patrick Walker

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    Sx9 commented on The fruit

    12-16-2009

    nice straight up good vibes love this work,continue my brother..

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    will1son’s Poems (5)

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