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Found Poetry 864


a home is never missing
even when it is not there
the memory kicked around like dirt
and stone that forms the protection of our caves
so long ago

the long roots grew through
the roof, the ceiling, our ground
they never stopped growing
so long ago

sapphire grass in the African evening
it was necessary
we leaned on these tough reeds

so long ago
so long

This poem was created from Sylvia Plath's collected works. Click here to get a book of Plath's poems.

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