The Ache of My Imagination
-a love poem
Lace, holding our son in the mirror,
wait.
I walk, sweat for the summer my only
sojourner
and company, until the sounds of giddy
laughter
greets me. The ritual of a ten thousand
years,
much like the kiss and the meals I have
cooked
for you and you me. I cross the weather
stripping
just place to save energy and keep us
cool.
My son, prompted by your excitement,
jumps.
To be home, the moment to be forgotten
within
the long process of time, repeated many
stories
Created and told, but it here our prodigy
powers
the life we live. You are the woman
born
millions of time in my imagination,
poor
as it is to hold onto the wonder of our
love.
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