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

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
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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