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POETRY BOOK THREE: Your Writing Hand
Stairs, Stars

Reaching for the stairway rail,
In vain;
My face and hands are turning pale;
I’m fainting.
Insane?
No, just waiting.
The air turned stale
And I fell.
Oh no, no pain,
I’m well.

Just you help me up these stairs today
And I’ll be on my way.

|| My Poetry ||