Celeste
When this name was conjured (perhaps from heaven) imps and angels alike must have known a star was born Across the depths of her young years she nurses a shoulder sore from carrying the weight of her own small piece of world The childless mother within her gathers her aging brood to her soft breast even as her sharp voice cuts; even as the whipped child within wanders again into a forbidden wood even as she cries for relief from the daily burden she lifts upon that sore shoulder Carefree, during selected moments, she glides across polished floors in multicolored toe-socks now, and then, there is a slip, a crash; her softness hits the floor; there is an anguished wail, yet her tears are brief the smile of imp and angel shines brightly through her clouds She savors her delight even as she bathes in pain; the child within wants multiflavored ice cream the woman here wants darkness lighted; Celeste is a blazing star in her own heaven Written February 14th, 2002 © on Feb 14 2002 05:13 AM PST 10 • 0
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"When this name was conjured..."