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frame this horizon
with all I have witnessed
crowd to the corner
where heart meets to soul
bear me the weight
no more than a memory
of destiny traded
to a dream long ago

laundry and laces
cracked oatmeal glasses
parts given way
as collections laid bare
black and white stories
are telling without us
faded a photo
of a photo somewhere

who is that boy
at the edge of the smiling
where now his reasons
though lost once before
held by a longing
bigger than pardon
when left his horizon
my own to restore

. . .