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Texting

The sun is spilling gold around her

But he's texting.

She might offer a smile that would make him
sizzle like an electric wire
They might talk
go for coffee
see a movie
take a walk on a path that
winds through snow like
confectioners sugar frosting
He might pull her into the warm
crook of his arm

But he's texting.

They might get married
have four children,
one who would discover a cure for
the most vicious disease of the century
They might sleep bodies entwined
every night
for sixty glorious years
And waking every morning, he might see or
believe he still sees
the girl with sunlight spilling gold around her

But he's texting.

pgallaher@copyright 2019
Published in Tetrahedra
www.phyllisgobbell.com

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