An Epitaph-Postcard

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The Hourglass

She told him,
‘I don’t want the scraps of time
you happen to throw my way,
give me your small hours,
and your joys enlarged –
then I will come.’
Alas, he was glass and wood
and dirt. He had no ears.
With a fistful of shakes and turns,
she left, and took her years with her,
untouched, her senses
magnified.

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