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100 · Mar 2020
Untitled
E F McCoy Mar 2020
[still trying]

There were times at night when we slept
like creatures buried in each other’s weaknesses
we kept each other
as air moved, moon moved, sun came and set.

If we could remember nights when we dreamt,
caressed, when sounds of love
were ours –
then, then, then
we would not cry to sleep again.

In time we will remember and redream;
we lose to find again
those times of temperate turnings
in each other’s arms, when even though
we face another night – another day –
we are the same, like creatures, we hold on.

— The End —