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Beneath electric lights,
our eyes miss darkness.

But my mouth remembers still
the way you and the night would blow as one
across the green stalks and shy blooms
between the growing grass and summer sky.

Then, you and I were young.

Now we wake to sunrise,
bursting rainbows in at the window-sill
As grandfather in his greenhouse remembers
mornings when he would bend and
gently tug weed-roots from cool damp earth.