Naive

I write

so that you and I

can come alive.

 

In these 8 x 11 borders

we can be free

to know we can breathe.

 

Eyes can peer

fingers may hold us

but we don’t fuss

 

We are alive

taking long walks

across each lined block.

 

Greeting our fellow

vowels and consonants

that make our love sonnet.

 

Our only fault

to think we are immortal

when we are written in pencil.

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