That one month (it was September)
our hearts looked squarely at each other
Mine cried out Yes! and clapped its hands
And yours tried to think of a kind way
to excuse itself.
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This little rabbit
Has a terrible habit
Of picking his nose and flinging it.
This little heron
Was never preparing
Preferring instead on winging it.
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Yesterday I compared you to the Sea and you protested
but the Sea is moody with turbulent depths fed by drowned sorrows.
I sit staring at the Sea, trying and trying to love it enough.
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Today I sat by the Sea and wrote a poem about your smile –
how it leaps unexpectedly to your face, radiating an innocent joy
and how, when it appears through something I’ve said or done,
I’m humbled, and feel weak.
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I never want to settle. I want to live a tidal life, giving in to the push and pull, slowly waxing and waning, always transitioning from one state of beauty to the next.