The wind smelled
of her hair that day,
the earth dresed with
the scent of her winter skin.
I began to find her in everything -
the rain the stars the trees
the moon - it all shrieked
her name.
For the moment the flaming
memory of her wrapped itself
around the universe,
speaking to me in the language
of ghosts.
She has no idea how
beautiful it feels to love
her from a distance.
by Christopher Poindexter
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| Moon in cloud © Jennifer Phillips |
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