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beatriz

an ancient box
of cedar fame
is lined with stories
tell again
of all that was
forever now
and what of truth
remains

as carried
from the table
and laid beside my bed
a note of time
allowing
for something
yet unsaid

I’ve felt
the gentle swelling
of moss
beneath the dawn
where silent sleep
ten thousand
I have loved

. . .

Image: Beatriz Martin Vidal

 

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