The Leave-taking

The meadow sparkles with six-inches
of clear water we cannot feel. You turn
and smile at me, winking.

You’ve assured me that you will find me.
There is silence as though rain has just
ended. We have decided from many choices.

They’re telling me that I’ll know you when
we’re sixteen. It is time. We will be born in
the same country.

 

 

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