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The Magic
sitting down and looking at the menu
turns miraculous when i have the closest chance
looking at you
by a dim candle light
i see a sparkle in your eyes
that i have not ever seen before
and you too glance at me
and you stop for a while
close the menu
and touch my hand
atop the table
23 years pass us by
and here we are looking at ourselves again
as though we have no names
i know what you will say but i need not hear it.
i am full.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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