I want that day, that
afternoon city
sun, that spray on the
wind; to know your kiss
is there where I found
you, your skirt alive
on the breeze, the sky
and your eyes the same
cocktail hue of blues;
the same fresh sight of
you - before the fog's
ice, before the earth's
tilt hostaged our warmth:
no harvested heat,
the duvet pulled from us in
the cold steel of night.
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