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Small Moments

Sometimes it is the small moments that I dream about.

The accidental whisper of your fingertips along my hand

when you reach to share a book with me;

the awkwardness of dancing past you in the hallway,

like dodging my reflection:

right, left, right, and then straight on into you.

The way your eyes fill up with laughter

or your look of absentminded focus as you tear open the mail

and make a show of interest in the catalogues:

“Oh! Smocks are in this season!”

A tilting of your head

that tells me that I need to ask about your morning.

The fibers of the day-to-day we spin into the threads of life…

sometimes those are all I dream about.

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