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it was October
when words fell as easy
as leaves letting go
touch burned far deeper
than hands holding so
of sorrow
of gratefulness
merged into a river of living
when she understood
all that she had dared to know
more than a moment
could hold –
a lifetime replaced
by the moist reflection
of love in his eyes
a recollection
she had waited to remember –
how distance wasn’t about miles
or the times between –
but rather a sigh between breaths
eternity passing in the hush
of whispers to hope
in the years to follow
it wasn’t the colors she would recall
or the longing just beneath her skin
it was the sweet perfume
of maple and cedar –
the lingering memory
of home

. . .