New Writings in SF 26 - [Anthology] Page 19
And Ana, after a time, asked,’... A beautiful poem, Richard. When did you write it?’—Which suddenly struck her as incongruous.
She saw him turn and frown at her, his brows creased.
‘As long as I live,’ he said across the gulf of human misunderstanding, ‘I’ll never know why you said that.’
After a moment, he folded away his frown, and began humming an old tune by a man called Harrison. And Ra took at last to his boat of the night; and they looked up at the bright benign sky, and lost themselves among the dimly glittering stars.
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