the soft and steady silence of a baby

breathing

the gaze which tells you all you need to know

her footsteps tender in the snow

the pitter-pattered blast of rain upon a window

considering all we do not know

or understand, we stand hand-in-hand

under the beautiful harvest moon

setting off too soon, determined not to be late

seeing her lost in thought by the five-barred gate

the rush of blood extinguishes thought

and all we ought to do

is soon forgot.

 

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