Oh, how I love the poet…
squinting at the sun, at me
not bowing to pray…
but somehow in a state of prayer
Her heart a few paces ahead
tender as duck down
head to one side she talks
part profile, lest either of you
forget other dimensions…
forward with a shoulder
on the door
it slowly gives way
she’s gone
leaving one main thing…
hope for her return.
What keeps you going?
her silky image.
What keeps her going?
Simplicity.
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