Love.
Pain.
The way the woman next to me on the subway smells.
The way the dead leaf wafts from the tree long after its death.
Joy.
Frustration.
The vibrant sounds of drumming from an exuberant boy.
The tiny interruptions to your one, long thought.
Spent.
Gained.
The mild fatigue at the end of a tremendous day.
The hand held in tender understanding.
That
Is the way it is.
~ by Stan Stewart
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