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  • Waitin' for me with a book in your hands.
    Your smile was big.
    Your presence was warm.
    Your hands like a house on a tree.

    In the pale light of a computer screen,
    our whispering voices
    our closed eyes
    our bodies.

    The springtime March chilly night.
    The silent steps.
    Tiptoeing around our spontaneity.
    African skies, dreamed land.
    Ocean sand.
    Granny beds.
    Long arms.
    Light hearts.

    Softly awakening in the morning light.
    The dream is real, but the clock that you placed on your thin wrist says it's time to go.
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