A faint, what seems like pink tinges the edge of a cloud then moments later breaks into something else and now, look. a spectrum of bright colour explodes illuminates the dark grey cloud into rainbow and sky joy far from the nuanced texture of a branch in twist away from the side shadow thrown to trunk of a form, of a thought we once were we're lost in the light rooted to Heaven now, and now again. and the free coffee I got this morning to celebrate your courage and mine in the fight in the dripping sunlight the free coffee every woman gets today made the neanderthal behind me spit fire but I held it aloft like a trophy for feminism for lost time for the journey it was, is, and ever shall be. -
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Such a lovely poem...
... but what's this about free coffee? I want free coffee. Especially the kind the makes Neanderthals spit fire!!
I like the form you have given this poem to go with a quite poetic language. The overall effect gives this poem an unique shape.
Your diction has much poetic expression.