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Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Winter Wine





I touched
your light
for an instant

felt you move,
curl about
my curves,
soar within
my space.

We pressed
red leaves
against dreams
of spring

but ribbons
would not be
undone.

Our glimmer
faded into
wet boulevards,
what ifs, and
winter wine.




Pamela A. Lamppa
Copyright © 2012
all rights reserved


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