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Bound Up in Twine

When we first met
I pictured you
  Decades down the line:
Bohemian,
In flowing skirt,
  Your hair bound up in twine.
 
Your eyes would sparkle
Just the same;
  For time would take no toll;
Summoning
My empty heart
  Inside the rabbit hole.
 
Seated in 
An artist’s loft
  Surrounded by your work –
The sculptures
With your paintings and
  Your Mona Lisa smirk.
 
But visions of
The dreams I have
  Awaken with the dawn;
Between the vision
And the dream, 
  I wake and you are gone.
 
Perhaps you put
Your art away,
  Your palette and your paint
And settled like
So many do,
   Subdued by life’s restraint.
 
But when we loved
I pictured you
  Decades down the line:
Bohemian,
In flowing skirt,
  Your hair bound up in twine. 
Published inPoetry

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