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Jun 2021
fleeting time becomes
running late from place to place
dealing with something,
when softy she asked, please, come,
sit awhile with me,
quietly, time simply stopped,
gently holding hands
feeling pained by having time
while hers now is short,
exchanging words while shadows
danced slowly across the floor
©️ dt + b
D Thornhill
Written by
D Thornhill
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