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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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