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The rain etched along glass panes
stretching above roses to form in small circles outside
blown effortlessly up then across
by infrequent gusts of wind

I could hear our son walking in a straight line to the fridge
then back again
high above the floor below
in our bed

You said you wanted me to hold you
to take care of you
I wanted to touch your hair
your face
that space
between today and tomorrow
between the window and our bed
catching three words you said
I need you

Times two