Prelude
He smiles at me,
And if he knows my name,
I cannot tell.
But no matter.
It would not be the same
If he knew me well.
I look at him with covered eyes,
For he would be blinded
If I opened theses burning stars
That I possess when he is near,
I may never speak to him again,
But I can hope,
For
He smiles at me.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/all rights reserved
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