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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Gabriella, Not Quite Two

She will not remember
her leave taking,
so I will remember for her.
The shadows were falling
like downy leaves.
Everything was preparing for night,
for winter.
The moon had come out for her,
no other.
Over the wide steppes,
the forgiving forest,
all shined silver.
It was her moon,
her solitary companion.

She walked miles on the sidewalk,
all the cracks were counted.
She took up the brooch of a leaf,
brittle as bronze,
held it up
and gave it to her father.
She was in no danger.
The moon loved her.
The earth loved her.
I loved her,
and the sky
spread its shield of clouds
and loved her.

Everything was hushed and quiet.
The world was cleaning its rooms.
The mountains tuning their cymbals.
It is her time,
an honored guest,
her party.
Eons of flowers and butterflies
have crafted their jewels
so Gabriella will find them,
give them her smile.
It is the order of things.
They are for her
who by coming
has made us happy.

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