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Sea and Shadow
by Michael Escoubas

Long after mid-day
shadows lengthen and the wine's bouquet
dissipates down the corridor
essence of lilacs
laces sea-salt air

I remember
a moment shared not to be recovered
but ensconced like a message
in a bottle washed up
by blue sea lapping the shore

we live in the
continuous mystery of now—
day runs on without
the scent of you, wine,
tables where we toasted

now vacant, shadowed
by the arched trellis hanging heavy
like a canopy of desire—
everything speaks a language of silence:
without you, how loud the silence


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