So slow she walks towards me
Flashes of each little expression of her
She is my mind blinking
Smooth and fresh
visions of her
on the verge of appearing
Her voice opens the world up
All manner of her
pours out like grain out of a sack
I´d like to make bread of her voice
Small short meals
That I may live on till old age
Celebrating the thought of her
till sudden death
Like the flashes of her take me
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