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I was lucky

I have long known the click of keys,
the clack of heels and ‘hurr’ of laboured
breath as joggers slap
and cough down winding paths.

I know the taffeta rustle as trees
in full leaf betray the expectant breeze.
How familiar ferries blare through clanking yachts and how the slap and slosh
of their wake washes the harbour rocks.

I feel the ground beneath me tremble
as a passing subterranean train races on
and the old earth exhales through crackling grass.

I have known this city, but until now
I did not know this hand, weightless as fog
in the dip above my hip
I did not know that in reverent silence
he would lean towards me
or how suddenly I would be kissed.
I know serendipity mixed with lucky fortune
Samantha

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on being lucky! I have a wonder, is the "He" the city? Or maybe where you met your partner? I like the line about the weightless hand of fog that rests in the dip before your hip. It fits, no matter the truth of identity. I can read it as being surprised at the love you feel for your city, rather than a romantic interest, but it begs the question. Nicely done, ~ Geezer.
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