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April 22, 2024


By Cheryl Haimann

When we are apart
the moon stays close to the ground.
The birds try to sing,
but their voices are flat.
I stare at my coffee
until days have passed.
We both look to the sky,
but the tidy map you see,
is, on this side,
an overgrown path.
I can't see to find my way out,
so bring your light
and hurry back.

Article © Cheryl Haimann. All rights reserved.
Published on 2006-07-24
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