by Elisabeth Long

Created on: November 13, 2009

Contentment

Behind a closed white door

beneath a layer of wool and down

beside a cut glass lamp,

listening to myself, whispering

only to me.

As easy as the train

bumps down the track

across the field

and the house shifts

in the moonless chill,

dog-eared pages

turned again with barely a motion

and a recitation

quoted by heart.

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