the mirror told me a different story
i had frequently asked about you
since the summer we met and lost each other
again
we had made love on a sky shorn of violence
clouds touched us before leaving
the glass in the sun broke in a chiaroscuro
of a dream
streets rolled us in
before a pre-emptive strike parted us
i know i will see you again
just before hurts heighten
a lost touch
of just another
day.
Many thanks, Prof. Duane
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