Circle of Four: A Poem
A single coffee sits Steam rising like Gentle tornadoes In a darkened room. I was alone. He trotted up on that White horse Men always seem to find Smiles, sweet sweat, embraces, clutching-clinging And love. Then came him, Wet, slippery, squalling And gazing, Those eyes! Sleepless nights, groggy feedings, Cooing, crawling, toddling, And running. And he galloped about Steedโฆ
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