it seems that I find you often
like a shell, on the beach
tucked away
the one
in corners of my eyes,
the reflection
to become my stop
and story over the sheen of
gradient vistas
and million to one odds
How do i explain this?
that moment of recognition
when the one who lingered
became the object true
to sight and mind
it bears no gain
nor need.
in truth you are the exhale
of baited breath
and the bread of life
from fields of gold.
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