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QuillOak

Free Verse · Love

The Quiet Work

by The QuillOak Editors

Nobody hands out medals

for the quiet work —

the found shoe, the cooled fever,

the crust cut off the bread,

the light left on.

So let this be the medal:

everything I am

was carried first

in your two hands.

Original poem © QuillOak — free for personal use.

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