Nick Dupree

November Glare


Late morning
sun high
over oaks and cracked Spring Hill pavement
I move alone


She breaks away
and stops for me


She,
February girl before
the sun
white edge of light
flare in my lens
specter long haunts

I cannot reach
her world


words come fast
promises made


then blurry
shine folds clear
severed
in a moment


she is gone, lost
but ghost flare lingers
burns, weakens me
still, reaching fingers
her vision
won't fade








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