What strange sorrow should befall this fine morning,

As an imploded star’s deepest blackness should seek to draw out

all of life’s joy from me?

And what sealed box that no key would unlock

Should steal my heart

that forever yearning could never touch

nor hope to possess?

Her eyes her eyes her eyes.

©Cath Piltz

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Photographer Writer Cartoonist Educator Publishing Credits Writing: http://www.monstralian.com/monster-drabbles Photography: https://byronbaywritersfestival.wordpress.com/page/9/ http://lismoresamson.com/gallery/photos-2013.html on.fb.me/1Iuxwmp

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