Dew

You love the way
She pushes her headscarf back
With the back of her hand
So focused
So unaware of her pull
dabbing her perspiring face
The sheer thin muslin kisses the wet dewiness
Lingering on
her plump lips
And you know
She is ever beautiful
Even in toil

She catches your eyes
They spark and dim
They simply say:
Not all of us have time to think
Not all of us can dream.

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