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Thimbles Be

Tags: love

If my fingers, thimbles be
on a shadow of your dust
in the moonlight of minute
so silent the footfalls
on a carpet of cloth
of you smiling

For love of the pen
and sweet ink of quinine
for gins and tonics
and verses of love
as we toast with lust
of harlequins and ghost

Touching in cross-stitch
your lips of red cayenne
as my fingers tingle
on your photograph
buzzing in your ear
if my fingers, thimbles be

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