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There is a secret self, a shadow
Relax your peepers and you’ll miss her-
Some say she’s not welcome here,
Others that she’s always been
Resting on gyri, enveloped in some sulcus,
She’s very small you know.
Her favourite thing is riding the opal-grey seahorses, over and over,
They watch her in wonderment, ache a little at her touch
Other times she sits in an oval orchard,
Feasting on almonds, leaving scatterings
When she is full she wanders along silvery-spindle tracts,
Until she reaches the cusp of the water and waits-
At the point of a kiss
Competing interests None declared.
Provenance and peer review Not commissioned; internally peer reviewed.
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