I found that picture of you leaning
rain-spattered against a stretch of wooden railing
mountain ranges washed along the horizon behind you
and a rare kind of smile
pressed into the lines of your cheeks, the kind
I did not pull from your mouth often enough
you looked happy.
and I hope that somewhere, someone
will paint that same smile on your face this year.
I hope you can trace a map through your grinning teeth
back to a warm bed by the end.
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