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Fruit Among Thorn

Corns form on feet
where toe rubs shoe.
Skin and leather meet,
we pay our due.

Rough calloused hand
knows work and toil,
but rules the land,
and tills the soil.

Our heart feels worn
where desire meets pain.
Growing fruit among thorn,
we love again.

© Brenneman T. November 11, 2003

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