I knew her when winter was her cloak
And spring her voice she spoke to me...
--Chris White, "Changes"
I can only find traces of you
-- a tawny, thin strand brushes red across my cheek
Every time I see that same pearly blue
-- a bitter thud
In some alternate universe
We're sitting at that table together
In defiance,
I brush your cheek with my hand
Your lips
push a thin, red smile
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