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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Hank

Hank, there’s two of you now.
Who I talk to, and who I remember.
Only the second you now stays.
Hank looking out to sea.
Hank at the door.
Hank in the dream,
trying to catch me in a reverie.
Hank in my heart,
where sins are washed away by blood.
Whose soul sings with the wind.
Love coming and going in the surf.
Hank, whose eyes had a way
of touching.
Hank, who paused where his words
gathered, searching for the meaning
of what he knew,
because it was never over.

The next moment, an empty cup
catching the rain.
Something wonderful
in the next face he met.
Another beer for his thirst,
and a gift for give and take.
Return more than you take.
Cause less pain
than the happiness you bring.
On an island,
the kindness of company,
and never letting someone
sit by themselves.

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