Saturday, June 11, 2011

yukon gold seeping in through the blinds
projects sunlight lines on the pillow & you sang,

"i wanted to make it...
i got that from waiting here.
tran tran a la la,"

"ta ta
tip top tap, my dear.
we've seen how strong winds blow,
but i've had you all this time."

future flash forward to a time machine
and we'll go back to the city of apples, or those orange groves by the sea.

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