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One winter long ago, the poet and their partner parted, not hugely distant, but prevented from meeting each other.

Watching the sun set from the edge of a forest, the poet thought:

I wish you were close

enough to clasp you to me—

—but the day is cold

and you’re as far away

as the sun between the twigs.

As darkness spread around them, like a black, silent snowstorm, the poet was overcome with sadness and loss.

It was some time before they found themselves and came together again.

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Ō

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Photo by Freddie Oomkens