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May 2015
Blue eyes, wonder. open for the first time
A place, serene, cold water, stars above
Forgiveness, no need to even speak of
a truth, I have found, wrapped up in a rhyme

A stranger, Kindness, an act without fear
The giving done without thought of payment
To walk alone, no thought of containment
A morning, deep fog and a white-tail deer

The chance taken, Lots thrown in league with Fate
Still Lovely as I watch time sculpt your face
A quiet hour, you, in my embrace
The moments pause outside a well-known gate


Cast off, set sail, nothing ahead but sea
The touch, that to this very day, heals me
Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.
Walt Whitman
Michael French
Written by
Michael French  Ontario
(Ontario)   
282
   Debbie Taylor
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