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Coming were the hours into dawn.


In bed,

we slept back to back because you knew I was weak

I don’t know whether I’m pleased or disappointed

for not haying with you.

But I’m glad you kept me warm in my rugged Queenslander home,

glad not all of winter was spent alone.


I welcomed this theatre without thought,

without expectations.

Now troubled

this could be a short show.


Chain smoking

waiting for your angel eyes to open.

Who shall look at the clock first?

Just your vanilla scent tonight,

until next time

my love maker.

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