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Out Of Character
I smiled yesterday,
I smiled at my hands
Because they smiled back
before running away,
to other smiling hands.
I held a smiling hand,
a piano hand that thrummed
warm rhythms on my knuckle.
The smiling hand,
Piano hand,
Curled around mine.
A quilt around a quivering dove.
And I smiled, yesterday.
I smiled this morning,
The glowing orb, the sun, burned my eyes.
I smiled at the snow,
Because it smiled back
with glitters of light for prisoners.
I saw eyes like that,
In those moments where I dared to look up.
They burned me like the sun,
a comfortable burn.
All was warm
And burning
And bright.
And I smiled, this morning.
I’m smiling right now
And not at my hands
Or the snow
Or the sun that burns my eyes.
I’m smiling at piano hands,
At eyes like snow imprisoned sun.
And,
Although I’m not smiling,
at the sun himself,
My head is up,
And I’m smiling at his world.
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