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the sight of her ignites his still cold blood,
streams of brown and black hair like cake of mud,
the blink of her eyes in slow motion,
the full attention of his focus in devotion,
a want in his eyes she captures across a table,
the focus obstructed by a bottle with a label,
moving around to look to find she is gone,
a moment to know her from a purpose he was born,
searching with his eyes in the crowd,
she is gone as vanished into a cloud.