G[lancing] at the mourning paper

No longer to ex-

change smile nor eyes

nor warm cheeks nor

teasing comments 

that cheer; but even

so, the pic you snatch is

close to the thrill of

human skin upon

skin …

… the glancing of mourning

newspaper, watched and

skimmed (like

the milk you now drink).

My time.

My place.

My choice.

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