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Tulsi
There was an air
Of danger
About them,
Not the nasty violent kind,
But that strong pulling
Undercurrent of fear
Whose eddies like rippling
Tentacles stretch, travel
And touch more people
And things than perhaps
They themselves ever imagined,
There was hot electric passion
Crackling, sparking, dancing
Between them,
A match if ever there was one,
But something was holding
Them back,
As if weighing
Cost, conscience, consequence.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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