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A Poem to a Lady with Wavy Hair
my poem
takes more than a page
from birth to this meeting
a lady
with wavy hair
and a pencil
I fell in love with her
she waved her pencils
over my poem
and I became her lover, Galahad,
a man who has his say
and is listened to
respected
I became a flower
in her garden
she waters me every Friday
before lighting Sabbath candles
before we met
I could not decipher
my own signature
now the letters of our names
have intertwined
we sort them into words
and stanzas
I with my blunt fingers
she with her sharp pencils
together we borrow each other’s thoughts
and make them into songs, blessings
© Johnmichael Simon
2010
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