"Can I read one?" Kaia asks with her head on my shoulder as I make my way through a collection of poems by Billy Collins. "Of course. Try this one." It felt like time stood still as we read together:
I want to carry you and for you to carry me the way voices are said to carry over water. Just this morning on the shore, I could hear two people talking quietly in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.
They were talking about fishing, then one changed the subject, and, I swear, they began talking about you.
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