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for When the Child was a Child

8/31/2006 c1 23WickedSilence
Truthfully, I'm never quite sure what to think of short little blurb-like poems. There's the reality of an 8-word poem, but then there's everything else that you can imagine fits in the spaces between those few words. Does that make sense? I feel the passage of time between the first and second lines, the third line defining how fleeting was the child's youth yet also seeming to minimize the importance of all that time. The longer I sit here and contemplate it, the more I find myself saddened. It appears as if the child's entire history is left in the blanks, not brought to the forefront, almost making the portrayed child empty in a way. But like I said, it's all about the invisible words between the lines that make this poem. Because of that, I really like it. It forced me to think (mainly 'cuz I was like: huh? that's it? where's the rest of it...?) and so the poem is entirely flexible. After all, I doubt anyone would read the same meaning twice since it is so open. I wonder, though, what you think when you read it...

Oops, I suppose I should end this now. Just know that I really liked it! And keep writing!

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