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  • When I was falling in love the second time, there was a painting next to the table that we would dine at. It was of a pig diving into a lake. The passion of the pig plunging into the water was clear. The excitement. The joy. And it reminded me of the chance we all take when we fall in love. The vulnerability. The pig isn't a good swimmer. The pig may drown. But it also looks happy at the opportunity for it all. One of those nights I penned this poem...

    It be,
    not me,
    who gets you.

    It be,
    not me,
    who touches your hand.

    It be,
    not me,
    with hope for a turn.

    It be,
    not me,
    trying to change.

    It be,
    not me,
    for the last stroke.


    It be,
    not me,
    that gets you - you see.
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