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S R Mats
Poems
2d
My Man, Gone
Ephemeral like water on the moon
Or a whisper into an ear,
This man, lying like the bend of a tree
Elbows bent ready to cradle me.
I could reach out, touch and feel him, then.
Now he is an air current swirling round me.
Written by
S R Mats
F/Houston, TX
(F/Houston, TX)
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