Richard Fox


On Monday, I personify the love scene.

On Tuesday, if I raise your ire, is it as a feral child or as a weapon?

On Wednesday, there was the clandestine night spent at the airport:
what goes up must go up.

On Thursday, I came across a book that struck me as perfect, or was it just me,
paying attention?

On Friday, the all-night diner closed & it took all winter for winter to arrive.

On Saturday, you bore a crown of fool’s gold.

On Sunday, you wished upon a star you didn’t count the last time.

I counted on you, though, as I must have loved you at some time or other.


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