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I don’t know when it all happened- the exact date and time, let me pretend it was sometime ago so I don’t bore you with details that might scar a simple poem, written in the middle of a busy day, squashed between two grinning men.

A poem about you and me, not of our lovers or of God the one you believe in and I say nay, except perhaps when I need a figure to cure pain, infuse hope in somber eyes, drive me faraway and bring coffee in bed everyday.

A poem about you and me, not the color of our skin for you will say yours is better, and I won’t agree, then we will break into a fight, you’ll leave me or I might leave you but if we stay and laugh at the little odd things, what does it matter how we look?

A poem about you and me, the sprawling metropolis filled with sounds of life, splashing rain on beautiful trees, the quiet depth of a dark blue ocean, there are all undaunted faces of time and nature here for the long haul, but we are on a one way journey and there’s a sigh in our poem.

 

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