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Dave Robertson Oct 2021
Like pitch dark chocolate
Sunday nights are fi-i-ne

But always leave you wishing
For less bitterness
Coral steps weave and weaved along deeply thick,
I am dark tea as warm as the dripping wax of the melting candle caught by its holder
In search for your hands in the cooing night
As you grew colder.

The nightly strings that are ripping
For a dancing gentle lily.
The day distracts what the night can give in the coral silence and sticky speed.
All day I quest for the nightfall's shower of retreat
and surrender.
The darkness loses
inside caves and shelters where the sun visited over and over.

— The End —