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poetry

Dearest one, when I look at you,
that smile you’re hiding
beneath your silken strands;
as I follow the path you trace,
with craftsman’s hands made gentle
over the kitchen table;
for some time I can forget
that you’re not a simple man
and do not have a simple life to lead.
This moment, when the sun has set,
the shadows make the harsh contours
of bitter reality
much more bearable.
You look like a dreamer and I
look no further than the dream.