teeth into,
the soft strains of Paganini,
the wriggling ruff of a devoted collie,
a stack of novels with lines so well crafted
I'm swept away by a literary tsunami,
and I will never want to die,
or think I have already died
and departed
to a blissful afterlife
and then
give me your hand
and I'll remember
who I am.
(c)Terry Cox-Joseph 2005
published in The Poet's Domain, Vol 22
Live Wire Press, Charlottesville, VA
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