Caleb,
That line is beautiful. Caused a long contemplation about other things that make me want to bite into them - white porcelain, the thighs of babies ...:-)
Thanks for your comment re the 'bones'. Actually, children's fingers remind me even more of the bones in tinned sardines - another type of poem I think.
I was so pleased to write about something other than Death - a personal moving on. But then your poem appeared...and reminded me of Gide: 'To be inconstant in your contemplation of death, is to devalue the smallest moment in your life.'
Isn't all poetry about that in some such?
Cindy
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