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Togethering
![](https://poemsbynell.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Becoming-Image-e1641509353654-uai-129x258.jpeg)
The land was dancing
the noon’s sun played its bugle
Happy the moments hid
behind the hours
as we stayed
for a while
togethering.
I was the mouth
you were the syllable
you were the itch
I was the scratch
Afternoon’s shadows
stilled the dancing joy
and the seconds
heavy chilled
lifeless
the gathering