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Well, I was old
and you were ... beautiful.
​
Imagine, an old man
wanting someone like you.
Did I think it was impossible?
Probably, from the beginning;
but I won't admit that,
especially to myself.
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Sometimes, when I read one of your letters
(one of the warm ones),
I hear you reading it;
I hear the music of your lovely voice.
Seventy-six years old and dreaming of you.
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Dreaming ... dreaming;
(yet you dreamt of me,
at least for a while).
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Some dreams hurt
all one's life.
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