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Real And Poetry
He first met her
Among the trees
In The Forest on the
Fringe of Goth,
He loved her
Almost instantly,
Her wit, her mind,
Her spirit wild
Entranced him long
Before the body
Goddess
Came into view,
That he loved her
She almost never
Knew because she
Said, it’s a fine line
Between real and poetry,
For him there was
No difference,
Real was poetry
Poetry was real.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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