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You think

it’s the drink

talking but


I swear

your honey hair

imbues night like

almond, palm, Arabian



We sat by the well

you and me

one night in summer

which heaved

with distant sea

and the silences between

the crickets

like the world itself

and everything in it

was breathing.


The stars in the black sky

twinkled like fireflies; wow,

those were the formative years

of our religion.


My imagination was wild; I might

have mapped the night sky, named

the constellations. I saw

centaurs, chariots, winged

horses that spanned the hemispheres…

and well, we spoke

sparingly which is good, as it should be –

centuries before the Spartans

famed it.



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