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Lilac Bones This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By NineMuses, Pelham, NY

Small and brittle as the leftovers
of a mouse
long dead
and withered
by this god-forsaken winter;

but pale and hollow
– weightless –
like the bones of a sparrow
polished by the wind.

I pass them each morning, somehow
the only things peeking out
from the soot-spotted snow and ice.

Their leaves are
curled up
in baby's fists;
huddling from the cold.

The fragile smell of lilac
lingers on my gloves
long after I've pinched off the last
of the tight-fisted leaves.

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