The Old One
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Entry for the Cessation Poetry Contest: Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
He appeared gently from the shadow,
hovered for a moment;
then slowly slid his willowy fingers
across hers;
beyond her palm,
damp with perspiration,
to rest on her sylphlike wrist;
where he measured her pulse.
It had risen,
slightly,
but not yet enough;
it would,
when she opened her eyes.
He waited patiently
he had all the time in the world,
she did not.
Copyright © Terry Miller | Year Posted 2024
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