An echo is felt, touched, recalled,
it drums against our hearts,
strikes softly upon the ringing
shell of being.
An echo hammers upon an open door,
it is unconcerned with any closeted desires,
it is not ours to interpret.
Echo's image comes to us
wrapped within a blossoming,
an ever-opening vowel of vocalic enticement.
Lily-padding slippers tread lightly
yet step loudly upon the mind.
I welcome all...
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