Shen Yue

Six Memories: Four Poems

I think of when she comes
shining, shining up the stairs,
hurrying, hurrying to end our separation.
Without ever being sated, we speak and share our thoughts;
looking at each other, we can't get enough,
yet gazing on each other, all hunger's forgotten.

I think of when she sits -
so proper, so proper, before gossamer curtains,

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