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A Friend from the Tribe

She is slender not too tall,
her body reflects her warrior
ancestors, generations of
their blood and strength
course through her veins
her soft round face glows
with warm eyes- pools of
brown behind wire frame
glasses long chestnut
colored hair
covering one side
pursed lips with a tiny smile
and a contagious laugh
declare her beauty
brandishing a soothing,
squeaky voice, that drips
like sweet honey-
a kind word for all who
encounter her
her love-
yet her soul is fragile
searching for answers
of her own, silent tears
melt her broken heart,
A different time and place
I would call her
my own-
Now I call her friend

14 Nov 17

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(15 more poems by this author)

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