Less of the Fist
Every now and then
There were times
When the fist
Felt more like a feather
When the lure of it
Compelled with
The force
And the pull of both
Still and stormy
Water …
Cooler and smoother
Than silk
But rougher than leather
Oh yes …
He could be an angel, or
He could be a devil
While
In the meantime
She was just
Some peasant farmers
Daughter ..
Caught in a moment
And saved
For forever in an old
Sepia photograph
From a long ago yesterday …
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