Cpr
she sleeps
while i watch
owl like through
the night
that what
might may
never
happen
for she i
need
for her
to breathe
into me
poetry
for
without
her i am
a shell a
vessel
for her
lips to
put
upon
and blow
then the
sound of
the horn
will take
its form
in lines
of her
dear
est
poesy
Copyright © Jeff Connelly | Year Posted 2019
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