Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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My labor is to meet you on the printed page
to renew our memory of that day
in Fall colors, slight chill, lite scent of burning coal
and tamarack, sun dazzling intermittently
through crimson and golden leaves, when you said
to me, that you had discovered love once
and that we should hold on to it, until somebody
convinced you that you were mistaken
leaving me to wander and wonder.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 9/19/2013