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sparse

was another side
of Sunday
when I found your hand
in mine
I was sitting over coffee
with the times
shedding tears for someone else
passed just yesterday
counted well the years
I threw away
a man
without a daughter
a bride denied her groom
a boy
who filled his story
much too soon
orchids bloom for every soul
years beneath the dawn
lost to days
we never knew –
this tearful hour
would come

. . .

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