And now it's time for some pretentious art-student-y poetry by yours truly. Rest assured this blog will revert to it's better content afterward (or not).
As I exit, I touch the door,
Feel its warmth, and for a moment,
She is there.
I catch an almost-scent of her,
See her shadow in my minds eye,
And then it’s gone.
Later,
I see her words on the screen,
Feels like the first time, though it’s only been
A day.
I
Rest my head on the desk
Trying to feel her soft touch through
The wood.
Enough. More Later.
- James
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