Sunday, January 23, 2011


There is a magic in remembrance,
As when we almost met.
The moon was at eye level,
The sun about to set.

You clapped to the musicians,
Who played down by the beach,
Your hips maintained a rhythm,
No pedagogue could teach.

The wind tugged gently at your scarf,
Then hid beneath your hair.
I suddenly had the strangest wish-
I wanted to be air!

But fortunately wise fate,
Refused to bend my way.
And you faded with sweet music,

Into dusk and end of day.

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