While sipping Yerbe,
I thought about snow
and harmonicas
and all things that get old,
except you.
Snow circled us
while it was black
you read to me
and I wanted to play
for you
something "soulful"
I had nothing
but the usual, but
that doesn't get old, does it?
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1 comment:
oh i like this one, too. lots.
i feel like i've been slacking, like i'm so far behind with this commenting thing. oops.
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