... There is a tremorposted by Abiezer at 6:01 PM on January 25, 2007 [1 favorite]
of light, as of a bird crossing
the sun's path, and I look
up in recognition
of a presence in absence.
Not a word, not a sound,
as she goes her way,
but a scent lingering
which is that of time immolating
itself in love's fire.
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Careful, you'll make the sheep jealous. /cellwair
posted by Blazecock Pileon at 5:21 PM on January 25, 2007 [1 favorite]