Postcard Poem 1
Marriage
The sound of breathing, the sound of wind
rustling curtains as they silently hang,
tucking our stories among the folds.
the sound of our story told
without words, even our shadows
hold their tongues. The inside of my hand
to the inside of yours. The dialogue.
The question and the answer
and the sound of breathing.
The sound of breathing, the sound of wind
rustling curtains as they silently hang,
tucking our stories among the folds.
the sound of our story told
without words, even our shadows
hold their tongues. The inside of my hand
to the inside of yours. The dialogue.
The question and the answer
and the sound of breathing.
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