I love your gaze
he said to her
I love how your eyes go soft and unfocused.
It's like poetry moving.
I wish I were a photographer,
I'd capture that image
and leave it where I could see it every morning.
he said all of this,
his hands interlocked with hers,
his thumbs tracing patterns on her skin.
she could smile and say thank you,
the dimple in her cheek showing
if they weren't idly waiting
for that petite little doll of his
to join them for dinner.
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