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I am in the midst of love—

Always, unwittingly, year after year,

everything about love…

Encapsulated in the soul,

(like that of a recipe),

A great aunts, grandmother’s…

Stored in a tin canister,

refused to give-up or cast-away.

Old tying into the new…

Because that what we choose to savor,

essentially, is who we become.

I am you, forever.

When I recall your heart,

there is my own—

And wherever there was failure,

     I forget,

     forgive,

by the pain of laughter so distant,

I cannot capture,

but let it cloak me like the warmth of the sun.

A day, you died.

A day, the intimacy of life escaped…

I was reborn into the recollection,

perfection.

Any reason to doubt is gone.

Because you were…

     you are,

          And I am—

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Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved

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