the trees have been dipped in copper
the grass rinsed lush with dew
he sits on a park bench
she undoes the laces of his boots
slips off his socks
kicks off her shoes too
the grass cools their naked feet
a breeze shudders the copper leaves
the sinking sun warms their hair
the gentle rhythm of their dance
remains, imprinted on the grass
long after they are gone
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