Between the half-drawn blinds
The lines of sun come.
Shady shadow cries
Its watery eyes.
A bath, a lamp, are all about
Same affair.
Naked body lying over there.
The other body sitting on a chair.
Fine-fingered hands that
Dangle from his wrists.
He's thought of missing out
on tiffs,
Old brandy, shin-cut jean
And jingling.
So silently he drags
His body out of bed.
Tiptoes across the room.
I can see his head inside the moon.

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