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Jaye
I know her more than a shadow knows the light
But less than tomorrow knows this night,
I know her more than the naked face of the Lone Ranger;
She writes inside my mind, still I know her as a stranger.
Can she be known through her verses of poetry
Or a small still frame that’s doling out a smile?
She unveils the words we seldom hear in dreams
And arranges them in coeval style.
Can I know what lies behind her tulip moon,
Or dare I pluck the bud before its bloom?
She breathes over my shoulder
In a presence of written words that linger.
I believe her mind is built inside an open ceiling plan
With massive windows pouring in the sun,
I see an indulgence for breakfast outside
Writing with feet submerged in water, by the dockside.
Just what is it that I know of her?
As she wrote, “you only see what you look for”;
What is there, whether I see it or not
Is creativeness and insight on the spot.
I can march along the cadence of her poems;
How sad the song of poetry is lost upon the modern era
But still dances in the arid souls
like raging rivers in the bare Sahara.
I know, I believe, I see
That she must be:
Positive, diverse, witty, enlightening, vigilant,
Amusing, investigative, encouraging, cogent
And flying her free flag unfurled,
A presence that widens the windows of my world.
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