who are you?
you must be dreaming
under a similar moon
under matching stars—
your fingers are leaving
their imprint
on this lonely slip of paper
where mine once touched.
we are as close
as can be—
two separate worlds
one story.
who are you?
if we met, would garlic
and onions perfume your breath
or would you smell
sweet as maple syrup?
so far away, across
the seven seas
past all hope meeting—
what music fills your soul
with the cradle-song
of the tide?
what rhythms do
your feet follow—
a sailor’s reel, stomping
out the dark, or the whirl
of waltz calling joy?
my moon sets.
you slip away,
so far away,
captive on some
future shore
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