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I’ll be gone at morning
like moonglow beads on lashes
when the sun-warmed wood pops
frighten away the dears

Sadly it needn’t be so sad

Awaken by then or of course
this will be the last time,
yes, should you sleep it will be

Too much ado of the kiss,
where one lip daubs another
so fine

so
so long

till an evening somewhere, not yet
ahead of where we are right now

Sleep
just rest now

sleep

© Chagall 2015

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