Hold
The bookmark girl in isolation
Awaits his hand upon the shelf
The fleeting seconds when his fingers
Brush her worn out leather soul
A faithful dog who stays at doors
And windows, like a matchgirl watches
Banquets of his life, so glad
For scraps that slip from plates
She swallows her own phosphorus
But no one sees the glow inside
Like fireflies she feels when
He passes her in flight
Breathless for the moments granted
In his presence and his eyes
Before the bookmark is replaced
And she is shelved again
To hope
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