To Gina
To Gina
When you have gone the echo
Of your presence is a phone
Ringing in an empty room
Dust settles on the window sill
And soft rain embraces
The lawn
The outdoor lamp wraps
Itself around a forgotten
Plastic chair
The stillness has no peace,
Restless I sit and wait
For your melody to come
A faint whiff of your perfume
Lingers, a vague promise you
Will return soon
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