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{mattress} christian ward The foam dumbbell sits in the corridor with the rest of the junk we're throwing away - old paintings, broken bamboo beehives. Sitting on the slab of yellow, I imagine I am with you, watching the moonlight herd a flock of stars. The falling rain starts to sing its poetry and I can feel its notes running down my face, washing away the scene night has created. Rolling up the mattress, it disappears; but as I look closer, I can see a raindrop caught in its skin; every spring singing its song. |
