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When
 
When we itch, we scratch
and the baby sandflies hatch.
Odd, isn't it, how we itch
for goodies wickedly rich?

When we grieve, we weep,
for grieving cuts us deep.
The weeping helps us mourn
and thus is healing born.

When we love, we trust.
There's no choice, we just must.
In trusting we may grow,
at least I trust it's so!

By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Fill In The Blank (challenge has been closed)


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