March 4

Dearest, I’ve been a wanderer in the past,
drawn to newer winds, endearing and fawning
over newer and newer words. But now, no her

will undermine our dawn. I am filled
with your unread pages, with your bliss
drawn curtains, ruddered to the soft yawn
of your daring. We’ve earned love.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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