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Worlds Apart by Frederick W. Bassett There you are in the West, a vibrant woman with a yearning heart, widowed now for too many years, standing alone in the afterglow of an ineffably stunning sunset. Here I am in the East, recently widowed, my old romantic heart but an ember, sitting alone on the deck, caught in the moon's light as it rides the dark trees beyond the gurgling creek. We're worlds apart and likely always will be by time and space. Ah, the awesome mystery of both. And yet, we're connected by the carefully arranged words we call our poetry.
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