A simile for brother
When we stand back to back
This old pomegranate tree
Spring's double amputee
Still wears its uniform for me
Of green for coming battles
With my sharpened shears
Who knew that blood could bloom
Into sacrificial flowers and make
It seem a happy parade
With a roaring exultant band
And floats of a hundred colors
This last one carrying its victory
Still blooming back from the wars
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