Sixty-Seven
Starting from sleep, I turn; see you resting.
But, no. It is a trick of light.
I remain among those who live alone.
Waking from sleep, the speaker turns and seems to see someone dear resting nearby. The image is brief but vivid—so real that it feels like companionship. Then comes the correction: it is not a person, only a trick of light. That small disappointment matters.
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