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As Warm

by Bruce W Niedt

We seemed to pass in solitude.

A summer was still the ocean

when she lived in a sandcastle

before the tide washed it smooth.

Timeless moments of full moon

casting a shattered silver path on the black Atlantic.

(“Let’s walk to Spain,” she said.)

Watch the moon, the hungry skimmer birds,

the lonely horizon lights.

Only nature is real.

A silent fusion of hands.

 

 

We left on separate destinies

without a real goodbye.

And in the kingdom of autumn

nothing is as warm.

If we never meet again,

at least we lived

for a few hours

together.

 

[Summer 1968]

06/24/2003

Posted on 06/25/2003
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt

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