The realization has just fallen:
Her birthday card to me has been
Hidden on my desk-that
Cluttered mess of books and stuff (count: I) -
And since last August I forgot
That it was there.

[Over time, I oft overlook the opus words that
Make life more marvelous, less mundane.]

Have I been too worried with myself? Does she mind
My mind still figuring, still learning stuff (count: II) ?
The craft card on my desktop counter
Sits still. It is opened, words re-read.
And 'til next August,
There it rests.

As always,
Every word is a delight.

by Antoine Lavoisier

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