By Lesley-Anne Evans
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How your dark lashes veil a sure and tested sounding
and how the loon crying, echoes the kiss of dawn on Okanagan Lake.
How a breath of Claire’s freshly washed hair somehow expands my lungs
and, how my lips feel, against your unshaven cheek.
How the backyard lilac, opening, diffuses a heady spring
and summer breaks under my tongue, with chocolate bits of a dipped DQ cone.
And the way I feel,
stepping wet from my morning shower into your waiting eyes.
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