I bathed her eyes in clover
before the dawn was born.
Her heart was forged in silver
once captured in a storm.
She smiles in August dewlight
upon my dancing hands.
They measure rose-hawk nightflights
and pray to love again.
She comes to me so softly,
lays her head upon my chest,
then flows out into the slip-stream
where she will take her rest.
Card mailed to Sam, 13.Nov.04
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