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My lady love is packing her bags.
My lady bug is opening her wings.
My lady in waiting has waited too long.
My maid of the mist will be missed.
How far will she go?
When will she come back?
What will she be?
And where too me?
Other poems:“The New Yorker is publishing my poem!” and “A Period of Mutually Agreed Upon Reflection” “In a clinic in Paiwas — Thomas Harris”