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Mark Ardent

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Harvest Moon


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We lived in cages, you and I,

Seeing each other as shadows

in a place with no light.

We stood reaching out,

our fingers almost meeting,

faces pressed to cold iron,

but people who held keys told us

contact was against the rules.


The others there all lived in cages

and did not complain.

When everyone is imprisoned

imprisonment is freedom of a kind

for those who can surrender.

Each day we reached,

almost touched. Almost....


Did our fingers ever meet,

did the glow we made light

our faces or was it just a trick

of my imagination that

burned your image on my mind.


I could not if I tried

forget the hunger in your eyes.

My flesh still imagines

the passion of your touch.

Perhaps my sterile love stays

with you now. But I am gone,

and you live in a different cage.

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