Sweetly Enveloped

What’s fresh
Will turn,
The sandy walls
Of our chamber
Echoing a Moroccan romance
Where we conceived our child
They go, become
The space
Of another pair of lovers
Still. Though. I
Continue to make plans
The being of my liveness
Requires a home
To be remade
And so, grateful
I make the bed
Sweetly enveloped
In the repetition of past domesticity
Those months went fast
Remembering, touched
By the warm glow
Summer sun
Open window

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