Y: Yielding #NaPoWriMo

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That stone you trip over on your way out

Is just the tip of something buried under

Our marriage eight thousand odd days old.

I know each arc of your words

You know how I bare my soul.

That stone will not be dug in our lifetime

It’s where our eight thousand odd habits lie

That is where our stories will be told.

Of how we yield to each other

Breathing whatever the future holds.

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