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Morning Coffee

It is morning in January
Bright and chilly.
He offers her his jacket
The steam from coffee
clouds her eyes.
They talk of times past to now
like it were a tiny ink blot
upon the vastness of the white
unknown, undiscovered ahead.
Such are beginnings perhaps.
A good bye was said but not
before it was found that she
deserved a hug. A warm embrace
that promised to melt all pain away.
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