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Donna's Poems
by Donna Flood

Whether the light be as a flickering candle,
Or the bulb's glow like vanilla ice cream,
Wand's beam of the flashlight with handle,
Maybe modern day's halogen stream.

Should it be the spotlight touching sky,
A street lamp's lonely vigil,
A heat lamp holding warmth for chick's to fly,
A reading light on a window sill?

This light comes to any who cry,
"Steady it is, always there,
Regardless of any wish or sigh,
Lights through wind and rain, dark or fair."

Come so far, gifts like from the original sun,
Taken for granted, expected to continue,
We didn't work for it but simply won,
Served us with warmth, vision, made sinew.

Should he lift his protective hand,
For but for a flicker of time,
Darkness runs rampart over the land,
Then light can't be bought for a dollar or a dime.

After all is said and done
These are the physical
Nothing was mentioned or begun,
Of the symbolic light of life and will.

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