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Missed Time

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My notebook has remained blank for months
thanks to the light you shower
around me. I have no use
for my pen, which lies
languorously without grief.

Nothing is better than to live
a storyless life that needs
no writing for meaning—
when I am gone, let others say
they lost a happy man,
though no one can tell how happy I was.

Source: Poetry (Poetry)

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This poem originally appeared in the July 2000 issue of Poetry magazine

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Missed Time

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