Matchsticks and Pebbles
By Tim Reed
How could I equate you with the glow of the sun?
A matchstick in a vast cathedral?
Or, more humorous still, your voice to the echo of thunder?
Mere pebbles falling on deaf ears?
Even if I look upon millions of stars unknown,
They are meaningless dust particles on a shelf.
Yet...
Here, in the whisper of intimacy,
You are unbound and unfathomable.
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