They were sweet and simple words
No more than to say
Just that he brought all around to tears
By simply saying
How lucky he was to be in love
I cried then, and tears again yesterday
When I re-wrote the memory
What is it?
Am I so soft
That a few words
Can turn me over
So should I now
Begin to eat more substantially
Go and fill out my ignominious frame
For a later-on-in-life reading
You see
This is not a picture
Not a painting
Or a photograph
Where then
Am I to place
The displaced teardrops
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