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untitled
There were nights I chose
to spend alone, not
knowing forever is a
black hole in the evening sky,
the mournful sound of a
coyote's cry,
the eerie hoot of an owl
echoing in the dark,
the lilting sound of a
meadowlark.
There were afternoons I missed
dining on chipped tables
at backstreet cafes,
Sharing laughter as we drank
our wine,
the sound of traffic with its
squeal and hum,
the go and come of hurried
footsteps on old brick
paths,
joggers on their
daily run.
There were moments I never
marveled at the feel of cotton
sheets that reeked of sunshine
and morning breeze,
or the smell of coffee
after opening Monday eyes.
The purr and scratch of loving you,
our time together spent on
the run,
those times when I didn't care
if tomorrow would even come.
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©2001 Judith Anne Labriola
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