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Judith L Dubin Sep 2016
As morning echoes
resound against a breaking fog
a sunbeam cranes its neck
around the shimmering curtains
to catch us entwined
like ivied vines grown together.

We hold the moment of bliss
like a photograph preserving time
before the jangled world awakens
and sees we have escaped
its perverse demands
to find, at last, pure and delicious joy.

— The End —