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Feb 2020
a moment passed.  an emotion felt.  photographs aren’t memories.  memories aren’t experiences.  angels aren’t humans.  and she is not an angel.

she is young.  but she has lived.  through more.  than me.

we are travelling.  up north.  in an old white van.  my eyes are closed.   her head is slanted.  resting on me.  she whispers.  she sings.  that song to me.  the old church song.  about salvation.  

she is thinking.  about something.  I am feeling.  her thoughts.  and maybe.  for a moment.  we are one.
John Destalo
Written by
John Destalo  55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)   
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