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she stands with her thighs pressing
the firm cushion of the window seat
the sun pours through the glass flushing her cheeks
she assumes you are admiring her silhouette
the way the satin of this, your favorite gown
clings to her hips and dips to the base of her spine
she straightens a little taller at the thought of your gaze

describes to you the amorous little humming birds
hanging mid-air dipping their eager beaks
into the crimson chalices of the fuchsia bush
and of the naive butterfly who flutters dangerously close
to the sparkling web in the corner of the sill
and its patient black hunter who huddles there
polishing his fork and knife

she giggles at how the wanton tiger lilies toss up their orange skirts
unabashedly flashing the rigid spires of the proud tower of jewels
and how the shy bell flowers look to the ground pretending not to see
chats on happily about the winsome metaphors
trickling down through the leaves of the golden maple
piling there at the ancient feet of the yard’s king
impatiently waiting for her to collect them in her berry bucket

she shares with you the fine sprinkling of fluff dotting the sky
forgotten dander sloughed off
by the real clouds who had places to be
then against the blue she notices the formation of geese
always trying to spell something, never getting past the v
perhaps volition
at this thought she turns seeking out your smile

she waits for her pupils to adjust to the quiet contrast
your favored wingback in the darkened corner of the room
her green irises dial to the spot where you should be
and stands for the first time, silently
this unspoken question hanging in the air between her
and an empty chair
still unmoved when the moon spills silver across the floor

were you ever really there?

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