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I miss you, when the woods are still and the river is low
In between the spaces that you and I call home
Where the ocean stirs... and tides come and go
There's a fire that burns...
As I ache for your lost soul

Who knows where we'll wake tomorrow
At the bottom of a bottle...or the edge of a spoon
Still...I hold on hope...that our love's enough to cope
And that you'll be coming home soon

It's too easy to take it all for granted
When the glass is empty and the dirt is dry
I sit alone....eyes slightly slanted
Telling myself all anyone can do is try

Through this life and in the next
In the winter snow and the spring rain
I'll wait for you... by the light of moon
Still...holding on hope
You'll be comingĀ  home soon.
 Apr 2017 Robert Andrews
Ten thousand leaves fell
with a single wisp of air
that escaped from your lips
as you smile;

that is how rapturously I fell in love
with you.
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