Through folding-doors,

came to me as you did,

the time before.

Rarest of visits,

three in all.

No urban sprawl,

a passing bell,

reaching the toll.

Limbs stepped

out of frame,

in the gap,

a yellow dawn.

Freestanding the wall,

win scored with scrawls.

What do I bring?

What you hold,

you own it all.

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