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Always Now
He couldn’t remember
What day it was,
Or the particular time,
Of course he could
Look it up and give you
The numbered details,
But it was summer,
Perhaps the glimpse
Of the sense of now
Made such facts irrelevant,
For the smile traced
By a light lipstick,
The sweet aroma
Of her shapely body,
The energy of the spirit
Holding her together,
The gentle calmness,
The beauty of her soul,
Are always, always
Now.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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