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There's that glint in your eye,
The wicked grin, the wild
Articulations, perambulations
Through topics arcane and obscure:
The unfathomable compels you.

Still memory paints you with such tender tones,
Mellows the light in your eye,
Targets the fleeting restful moment;
The hollowed arm, the nested cheek,
The body lulled to calm
By sleep . . . I will not disturb it.

But cast my thoughts in a net of dreams
Where nothing is but only seems.
I'll go there, looking here, and through distance
Some perspective gain - begin to train
The sprinting heart and the plodding brain -
surely between them there is some balance?

Somewhere between memory and the future it rests.

Written in answer to a love poem from an unexpected source...