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Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Intimations





She turns a whisper
and the air cools 

 gently. 

 Spring haze drifts
between the glint
of iris reflections 
bending 
within ripples.

 I know this place 
of yesterday's glimmer
and bleed memory 
for its taste. 



Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved

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