Walking long mornings into sunrise.
You stood by and took the earth into your arms
like grainstalks.
I called you my Degas prince.
You soliloquized the moon.
21 days and nights we tarried.
Almost single, almost married.
I loved you.
You spoke to me in words of magic.
In reverie, I feel your spell still cast.
Hollywood houses and Paris cafes bowed to us.
Not enough, you must find work and companions.
I cursed you in my mind, and went off
seeking other follies.
Shadows longer now, a world gone strange.
Love lost in a looking glass, reflecting change.



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