how it begins
Morning sits on the window side of things.
I sit upright, watching.
No hurry.
This is how it begins.
There is no one but me
to love this gray, indeterminate tangle of branches.
I have never been so loved as this.
Morning sits on the window side of things.
I sit upright, watching.
No hurry.
This is how it begins.
There is no one but me
to love this gray, indeterminate tangle of branches.
I have never been so loved as this.
not ending in a flower or bud, thus allowing further growth
able to be satisfied by more than one value for each unknown
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Lisa B King. All rights reserved.
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