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digital art by phil gennuso

digital art by phil gennuso

I never quite saw her,
only glimpses I stole
with each flourish
of horns and cellos and violins.

I felt guilty I must confess,
as I rode home on the night train,
eyes closed, dreaming,
notes floating around her,
above her, about her.

“Last Stop”,
so the conductor shouted …

I snapped from my reverie
and began my walk home,
into the cool summer night,
a lightness to my steps.

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