deepundergroundpoetry.com
Remember when
We laid on our backs
Looking up at the stars
As their light pressed softly
Against our chilled skin
And an early Autumn wind
Brushed along the edges of leaves
(And whatever was left
of Summer nights)
Spilling thoughts of frosted meadows
at dawn
Into the September air.
Looking up at the stars
As their light pressed softly
Against our chilled skin
And an early Autumn wind
Brushed along the edges of leaves
(And whatever was left
of Summer nights)
Spilling thoughts of frosted meadows
at dawn
Into the September air.
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