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Let’s build a new nest for our love, my dear.

We’ll make it from memory and hope and slow falling steps.

It will not be so full of the plans born of yearning.

It will fit us with lay me down space for our heads,

with only a flower that blooms on the table

where wrinkled hands curl around palms of devotion.

The doors will rejoice in enough and in gratitude,

a roof full of stars,

a moon from the day we began.


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