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Posted in Poetry

'Wrote a poem to share with you:


"There's a moment, on the lake, when the games stop.
The waves and the wind are all called home, and only
Then, with the last of the sun,
Can I paddle without a sound.
There is delight in such passing and I hold my breath,
As if to keep the canoe quiet.
I pass all the cottages and can see their lights;
Children who's feet did not still since early morning
Have admitted to the effort to even blink.
Their heads nod back against the sofa, all dressed in 
Cool pajamas,
Finally carried to bed with the utmost care.
A mosquito in the room, sought out, and dismissed.
Another cottage bathed in TV blue. 
The end of the series.
And finally I arrive and slip up to the dock.
I have brought you the book you wanted to read.
It was a good excuse
To visit you.
And we talk of the book and how the
Reviews were bad, but I still liked it,
And I point to the bats...but all the while I am 
Enthralled with you.
Eventually, I remember to breathe.

- Suzanne Crone

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