I like to think
I like to think
That the atoms of wind
That caress my skin
Have, once, travelled
Through your lungs
I like to think
That the water
That I use to make my tea
Was, once, a tear of joy
On your cheek
I like to think
That the piece of paper,
Where I’m writing this poem,
Was, once, a tree
You liked to climb
I like to think
That our lives
Are more connected
Than our Facebook pages
—
P. H. Bedim
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