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Her · Tia Parnell
Her
poem by
Tia Parnell
One glass catches the last light.
Across the room, someone sits alone, held in the same evening.
Evenings used to hold a quiet certainty; a presence just within reach.
Now there is only the pause, and the waiting that goes unanswered.
Nothing is missing, and yet something does not arrive.
Reflections