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Closing Her Eyes
Closing her eyes
Her hand to her lips
She softly stepped
Into the wind,
She called it a rash
He a nice itch
Winding her way
To her lover,
He never did say
As mystics do
I think he loved
Loved her too,
And always was
Touched
When she took
Time to stray,
Let their energy
Mix,
And mingle.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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