by TMRH In this, I lock the time I spentGazing at your neck(From behind.)In this, I store the touch of your handRevealing your thoughts(Held in mine.)In this, I preserve an image of youDancing with your shoes untied(Yet not falling.)And in this, I keep a fleeting hueOf your scentWhen you bent(Over to me)Wish me goodnightAnd smile.
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The Poor Print 