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LOVELY
A perfect afternoon in June:
the sun butter-yellow and soft,
the irises tall and flamboyantly purple.
I am lying by a pool
in a garden,
the breeze sighing
on my bare flesh.
Two girls are playing in the water quietly
like nymphs in a pond
their long, wet hair
falling down their backs.
They are not my girls.
I have none.
But for a few moments
in the pool beside them,
admiring one’s mermaid tail, the other’s diving,
I pretend they are mine.
The world is as alive as it gets—
lovely, lovely, lovely.