Her Number is Always Three

And on the third day

they rose and he made the coffee.

She took time collecting

what the day called for — telling

the story of how the child

saw a piano as a shape on the camera.

He took the camera from her,

lifted the piano top, replaced the batteries.

She didn’t cry nor did he, yet they sat

there for awhile with the echo of the toddler,

sipping cold coffee.

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