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Striking Fires of Our Own on the Water | A Poem by Donal Mahoney

Although we’ll never again
be body to body or mind to mind,
you and the place and the years
are alive every night in the letters
I’ve stored in my room.

In your letters it’s still
that day in July
when we met on the hill,
with trees in applause
and the sun all over the water.

In your letters we’re always
body to body, mind to mind,
far out on the sea,
kissing and striking
fires of our own on the water.

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