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I remember you

one lost rainy solstice,

beautiful with the purity of youth,

untried, arrogant, straight

and strong and true.

it was the longest day

of summer, before it turned

to retreat from our tanned arms

and your defiant face.

 

that steady march away from glamour –

your eyebrows scold it,

as you bristle, insolent as a cat –

but none of us can hold it back.

 

or the years that follow

and strip you of your silky hair,

smooth-skinned, lithe-limbed nonchalance,

that once inviolate confidence,

cool studied air of being unaware.

 

you are less sure, less yourself,

your sharp clean edges fuzzied, ill defined,

a pale reflection of yesterday’s radiance.

it’s almost too much for me to bear.

 

 

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