(Her) January
Out of the blue
this evening
I thought of her -
missed her...
no longer here,
juggernauting my senses
When last I saw her
my hands, suddenly
strangely
came together
in prayer -
as if I knew
Out of my hair
this evening
fell a small white feather,
said to be divine connection.
A sign?
Her energy lives on
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It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
(Henry David Thoreau)
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