Iceberg Ground

as my feet shift heavily

lumbering forward

on this iceberg ground,

i cast my gaze on the

world above

me.

as i approach an organized pile

of bricks and glass,

white teardrops of flecks

fall in silent wistful waves,

leaving me to

wonder 

when the spring will wake.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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