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Melt Pool
I find my hands are dripping -
With the wax of my emotion.
And yet I lie here waiting -
In the pool of my devotion.
How could i know this fervor -
From flame who melts my candle -
If I wait to jump at grandeur,
A heat fresher than I can handle.
The wise can't act by chance,
So they must not know of passion.
Cold wax still smells of romance -
It is strong but shaped from ration.
Copyright ©
Devin Croteau
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