Spirit (an acrostic poem)

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She looked into the night sky and pondered her place.

Perhaps she was just a gathering of dust on a rocky mote flying through emptiness.

It made her feel small and insignificant,

Refuse of exploded suns long since forgotten in the cosmic background.

If that was it, well, that was still pretty cool.

The fact that her ancestors were ancient suns lightened her soul, and her smile lit up the night.

Barber (an acrostic poem)

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Boy could those men tell you stories amid the smell of talc and aftershave

About times in the past that people have forgotten

Remembering with such clarity the neighborhood throughout time

Because they had been there for a combined hundred-sixty years

Everyone came there to sit in those ancient green chairs and listen raptly

Relishing their experience with those historians.  The haircuts weren’t too bad either.