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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

For Love

A day for love
between half past four
and five,
when the heart remembers
needing to be fed.
in the dark horizon
of her eyes,
returning from the blackness
of a cave,
uneasy sleep.

Rainy day
when time
settles like a folded wing,
hair trailed on her cheeks,
fingers entangling words
into its curls.
intent as a tiger’s gaze,
day done,
love vanishing
between our lips
in sighs.

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