Echo By Carol Ann Duffy
I think I was searching for treasures or stones
in the clearest of pools
when your face…
when your face,
like the moon in a well
where I might wish…
might well wish
for the iced fire of your kiss;
only on water my lips, where your face…
where your face was reflected, lovely,
not really there when I turned
to look behind at the emptying air…
the emptying air.
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