Where is she In whose hair I washed my hands? She, whose smile Salved the wounds Inflicted by a world So little understood? She, whose warmth Filled my soul From within Against the chill Of lonely nights Following empty days? I need her now. But she is gone Like the blossom's scent, Blown by the restless wind. Who can reassemble A smell? Who can Find my love? 4/21/76
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