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had i waited
on the spring
to gather me
for home –
the scent of winterberries
on the vine
had i held my breath
a moment here
to let the snowfall melt
bare feet
where roses grew
one morning
you were mine
as shadows burned
to daylight
dancers on the floor
pages from our story
to defend
when recalled
the times we wasted
waiting one more
kiss –
leaves became
the color of the sun
by the cold
to fall again

. . .