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Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Dead of night

Dead of night,
I reach for her.
Bed is empty,
her side cold.
I sigh. Rise.

Sitting Indian-style,
bent over her book,
cartoon night-light
overhead,
tongue peeking out.
She is focused.
Doesn’t notice me,
watching her, loving her,
every minute,
more than the last.

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