Thursday, December 8, 2011

No Two Snowflakes

Ripped fabric,
Blowing in the breeze,
Almost too simple,
Destroyed with ease.

Delicate and Beautiful,
Crushed without a care,
By those who professed to love it most,
But never stopped to stare

At the intricate stitching,
At the elegant grace,
Of the white, free-floating fabric,
All without a trace

Of anything but its
But all they see
Is tattered lace.

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