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Scott Edward Cole: Music

Convalescence

(Cole)
That you
would lead me
through the courtyard,
with the gentleness
of fingertips,
the opiate
of open lips,
and a tenderness
I have grown to
be prone to.

My heart as murky
as my eyes
The vision that
their sight denies
The quickening
of my pulse
In the race
toward
quietude.

I am the
attentive etude
Hungry for
lessons from those
Who would offer
them to me,

To whom I would ask:
"Do you suppose
you can lead
me to repose?"