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All night I dreamed you,
or think I did, color turned
black-and-white cool, fall,
you working our garden,
or so it seemed, lingering over
desert fern, Balsam root
Asian transplant, lilac patch
never quite taken, bruised blue
rhubarb, until fall, on waking,
wore itself out, flora-cum-frost,
season never tough enough
to stay the course,
you past a day.

GTimothy Gordon
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