By David Michael Jackson
Show me the flower then
show me how the dust is in the air,
next to the
Show me the love then
when it was fresh and new
like the flower,
like the dust.
Show me the glint of
the light in the water as it flows
into the glass.
while I am still here to see it
show me then,
the wind rattling the trees like a child playing.
Show me the child playing
so I can rock in my old man chair and know
not that You were here,
but that I was here
Show me Poem) © 2011 by David Michael Jackson , All rights reserved
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