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nearlynow

was for joy
another lived –
beyond my fingertips
beyond the scent
of rivers
gentle hands

are fastened
by my memory –
held in place too long
with wanting
let me never
love the same

talk about
and all I know
is what of me remains
missing of my heart
the sweetest
name

nights have passed
beyond the dream
somewhere else
I live
a telling
of the moments
falling through

. . .

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