looking at the portrait of james taylor,
i am waiting for both sides now to finish
shedding raindrops on the window sill.
i envy him that relaxed smile, his hands
folded behind his head, and that dreamy
look into the distance. all my portraits
are at a crossroads. if only i had painted them
differently.
hidden pilcrow 
Your wistful voice is lovely beyond compare.
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Thank you.
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