His head a balloon
His arms made of timber
The redness in his cheeks
Was born to spill
All over this dull wooden floor
I stare closer.
And see his features
Unravelling
They twist
And turn
In ways
that even Picasso
Could not picture
Hesitantly
I inch forward
Until I feel
his glassy touch
So that he may watch
Me go home forever
The oldest sibling deserves some appreciation, don't you think?
Blending traditions for a meaningful Thanksgiving celebration.
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