For Deborah Guzzi (A Poet and a True Friend)
My mind like a hand turned up before the eye
Palm bare, empty as a desert air
Found no words, for every fresh brook was dry
And I was left brimmed with care
But then I read a love note to man in absence
Where the flowers bloom wild
And felt a sprout quicken on a dew of evidence
So with the drought I reconciled
And for your love I scrape the page with my pen
And tell my soul to wring a memory
And make love flock to you, my sister, friend
For every frfiendhsip tells a history.
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