The copper and black ribbons
and wisps of hair, unruly
and mingled,
the girls’ fingers intertwined,
nails of shared color,
pink
and chipped,
the sweet softness of their hands
even I
feel
by just looking.
I held. I stroked.
In quiet moments sitting as they now do
sharing whispered moments of memory
and notes of song
near dappled, lapping silver blue glitter of the lake.
Days from then
leave.
Those I held, felt, helped
leave
away
from me.
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