Public Poetry. Full Circle.

Forever, I could watch these yellow pansies 
swaying against the cerulean sky
and listen to the clink of ice cubes;
swirling my glass in circles
like the links of our lives:
first training wheels, first love,
efforts finally seeing fruition,
closed doors, open windows,
love like the first time,
wedding bands—
and your hands,
sweetly circling my back:
hands that hold my hands,
hands that wipe my salty tears;
hands that planted yellow pansies
Against the cerulean sky.
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