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Only a Glimpse
She colors the world and paints her sorrows
a tender cry stifled with crayola and markers
Tenderly sweetly a shadow in a window overlooking the bay
only a glimpse of something beautiful in the making left bare but not for the taking
the briefest glint of something wonderful yet so unattainable a picture on the page
something colored through age
A wonder placed assunder down on blank canvas storybook I mistook
A story yet unwritten, only painted with concise strokes straight like spokes, so
meticulous and determined
A picture framed so neatly barely hiding a story discreetly, inked with hopes and
dreams that beams through the solid blankness on the page
And I had only a glimpse.
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