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Sunday, September 9, 2012


Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day. Shakespeare


Yesterday, you are my
breath of fresh air--
earth, moist, full.
My soul nourished by
the present salt of your lips,
the gentleness of your touch,
the simplicity of your word.

Your heart pounds steady --
wood, breath, river.
Reminds me
of my present root--
the reason for my truth,
the reflection of your meaning,
the light at the beginning 
of my road.


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