January 24, 2006 Block 1
Sunday with Kylie
When I left you
on Sunday afternoon,
you were curled on your side
like a fiddlehead fern
newly sprouted in spring.
I rubbed your back
softly, just enough
to let you know
I'd been there.
Your face puckered
in rosebud sleep.
I hated the bubble
of our afternoon
to end.
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