over time
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I did not come to love you over time
you were not slow to permeate my soul
grandma’s golden loaves baking in her oven
rising sunbeams entering my room
a dandelions reflection beneath a child’s chin
proving you like butter with warm toast
cinnamon and sugar
better I should let the words decide
nor hide myself within the droplets of the dew
everywhere I looked these eyes were you
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2025
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