As the golden autumn sun rises in the little room where I sit at the computer,
the day is already old five thousand miles away in Spain.
This moment laughing happy feel it be it
Curve of face warmth of hands butterflies
Pinned in place when it mends try
This moment ripened bursting taste it name it
This moment precious fleeting catch it frame it
Curve of moon warmth of air willow bough
Winter soon be aware now how
This sadness aching reaching looking on
At this moment present distant shining bubble touch it lose it
Happy laughing perfect golden
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