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After Loss
I meet you
little by little
in that sudden smile
beneath a passing stranger’s eyes,
in that intimate voice
beyond the chatter of the crowd.
I hear your chasing steps
on the stairs below
and I stop and turn
and a stranger rushes past
You exist
in minute pieces
in unexpected places.
You are those bits of glass
that keep falling from a shattered window.
It does not matter
where I go.
You always follow.
Carolyne Butler
(Copyright © 2000)