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Rough Draft Poem

Still need to polish this one.  Here it is rough and still in its matrix.

I was once bananas for bananas
I ate them everyday
Relishing in their forgiving texture
and sweet flesh

Deep inside something turned
and the time of bananas ended

Now I compost
Turn over the refuse of my mind
Hoping something edible will flower from it

I miss the taste of bananas
So I throw their peels into the pile

Deep inside something turns
widdershins, inward
turning over the compost heap

After the process of heat and decay
I can see that it is not nourishment from bananas I crave
It is the rich black soul soil of reflection
 

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