Decorations

We were young,

much too young,

to see the man

swing in the sun.

A hissing wind

pushed past the leaves,

a rope pulled tight and

moved with the breeze.

Paleness and redness

and a stretch of limbs;

there was a note of sorry’s

and a list full of sins.

Speechless, we ran,

no space to breathe,

from the haunting shape

hanging from the tree.

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