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#120

31 Aug

Late night wasteland                        (new)

I wake in the night
and go downstairs
and begin wandering through the living room
reading Eliot out loud.
I am not trying to reach anything
or expand my mind
but for some reason 2 am
calls for poetry and my voice.

My wife does not know I do this
once, twice a week.
After an hour I slip back into bed
rewarming our bodies.
The following mornings
my voice is always softer
my pace slower
and my love-you kisses more real.

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2013 in new poetry

 

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