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how is it I’ve forsaken
my plans for evermore –
my want for more than waffles
another sunday morn
papers spread around me
with no one to obsess
o’er how I kiss
how I take my tea
where the lines
have faded now
who will mind the lawn
and who has sworn to memory
the place
I dreamed about
when all the rest
is scattered
none shall know for sure
where I kept my heart
how I loved

. . .