you have etched into my heart

a walking path

lined with flowers

of every color;


i've walked it once or twice,

myself, and i've seen

bluejays and buttercups

but never you yourself


i suppose that's all well;

but amongst these flowers

and the path trodden by your feet

in my head a string of words repeats:


i miss you,

i miss you.

do you miss me?


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