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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



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

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© Johnmichael Simon



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