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Growing Beanstalks

Growing Beanstalks
(A traditional cinquain chain, comprised of three stanzas)

Dire fear,
like drilling worms,
writhes through my bosom, eats
my peace like blight, but can't consume
all hope.

Brave hope
suspends my heart,
buoys on warm air currents,
billows from beneath, replenishes
new love.

Bright love
sprouts fresh, verdant
vines to the castled sky.
Let me now contend with giants,
not fear.



© Merrijane Rice

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