A Certain Uncertainty
he grins wryly at the familiar thought
that he's once again eating late breakfast
over early lunch, or maybe doing it just
the other way around;
it amuses him that he' s still this unsure,
pretty much like being still unable to tell
if the red sun in a silver sky in a painting
is rising or setting;
affectionately, he brushes a strand of hair
from her cheek, softly tucking it around
her nape, a vague smile of faint
uncertainty in her sleep.
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