SAWDUST
By Lupe Ruiz-FloresStained old muslin apron
wrapped around his ample middle
grocer dips into sawdust barrel
sprinkles the powdery shreddings
across the wooden floor.
Like snowflakes they fall
making no sound
as they settle gently
on the decayed wood
once itself part of a tree.
Scent of freshly cut wood
uniting with old gray boards
a blend of yesterday and today
like cousins at a reunion.
By Lupe Ruiz-Flores
Like a pendulum I swung
from your golden chain I dangled
in tune with your heartbeat
the ups and downs of your life.
reflected in my golden armor
I played my soulful music
as you commanded.
perched proudly on solid rock
a reminder of the solidarity
we once shared.
Detached from you forever
I now become someone’s heirloom
my fine, embellished lines
caressed by the next in line.
"Love the writing, love the writing, love the writing... the rest will follow." Jane Yolen
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