Here's one I prepared earlier 😀
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Spring’s Demise
There is, in the breaking of an arm,
In the breaking of an arm of a small boy,
A small boy who falls to the ground laughing,
Laughing until the sound reaches his ears,
His ears, like petals on the side of his head,
His head tipping back as tears flow,
As tears flow down each cheek,
Each cheek now pale and bloodless,
Bloodless like the marble statue against which he lies...
There is, in the breaking of an arm,
The sound of spring’s demise.
2014 © Philip Newey