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About This Poem
The Tracker
The singing line
that held me to you broke.
You slipped away
on little feet,
a valley formed.
And in the prints and dust,
I searched along the old tracks.
I saw you as I made you up,
into the form that I desired.
I found your ice white body
near the shore
then in despair
I carried you until we fell
into the warm light air.
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