in the distance
far beyond my reach
sits a curious quizzical lady
reflecting on
near misses and
wet kisses and
tardy attempts to connect
beat shaded under-rated
near-miss exchanges
sharing these changes
as time slips from us
while clouds, rain, thunder
sweeps over keeping
distances prim
far turns trim
blinking in the flash thinking
we cannot know how
to go
now to hear
one of our voices sing
what only wisdom brings
there's time enough for knowing.
-- douglas brent smith
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