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justsome

how is it
becoming –
a memory true
as the near perfect shade
of chestnut
of root
the filter of lilacs
lavender
moss
as a dream
now surrendered –
tendered by loss
as another I held you
another I wept –
long past the edges
writ for me here
in scripted
assurance –
promise and vine
paths given way
to the margins of time
a keeper unseasoned
by love
at its best
purpose made sweet
by forgiveness
confessed
let me to know
of a place
not so far
as the essence
of lilac –
a night in the stars

. . .