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Standing at the Head of a Winding City Street

October 28, 2014

What, if you should say “this is not quite”—
What, if passion flies to tonight
To bliss some other, others, beyond this I;
If split, like rainy pavements, we try
But miss what lovers, across the gulf of sound
Or sight, feel for, reach or bound;
We stand so like the shambles of a street,
No place, where our two places meet;
But fearful at the head of life we start
Mortal, impeded, stopping, short—
Then see embracing roofs just out a pace,
Hoping, breaching that unknown space.

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