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Click hereSoft beams of luminescence
Drape my windowsill
Dancing with the dust motes
And cutting through the chill
The cat lies in the pattern
Shining on the rug
Stretching languidly
And batting at a bug
I sit reading
In my old wingback chair
What a beautiful feeling!
Don’t you wish you were there?
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 40,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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