The Original Roosevelt

Crumbs on the wooden floor
And I am too
Not crumbs…but on the wooden floor
Although, I am fragmented, as are crumbs
Coming from something whole,
Valued and desired
Then suddenly, maybe violently so, not seeming
As whole

Here on the wooden floor, my knees hurt
My heart hurts
Because the world hurts
But I’m reminded that the world
Much like this wooden floor
Of Bull Moose bungalow-era origin,
Is resilient
As Hell

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