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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


Whose odyssey?
Do you live in that country
I thought would be yours?
I see rockets and shooting stars,
air balloons in the sky.
You always live in the zenith.
It’s in the faraway gaze of your eyes.
Sometimes I keep talking,
changing the subject
to keep you coming back,
distance proportional
to the fantastic things I say.
It is a game.

You are no more than an inch away,
miles inside me.
You approach me like a tide
until the whole world covers me,
and then emerging,
everything is bigger,
a roar in my ears,
and I feel
you are the wick of a candle
the wind cannot blow out.

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