A Word From My Brother

Sun, 09/08/2013 - 14:06 -- BreeB77

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He handed me a golden city

one day, dropping it in my hands

 

like an old man releasing  a burden,

one that made a home on his shoulders and

 knocked hard on his head.

 

It brushed his chubby fingers,

was scratched and faded, like

it had been lost and forgotten

for part of a lifetime.

 

“You have a silver one just like it,”

 

he said, “remember me when I am gone.”

 

The words were strange in his high, small voice.

His brown eyes had seen more

than they should have.

 

“Remember me when

I am gone.”

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