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Dec 2014
follow skinny white legs up
that slipshod hill
of cascading pebbles

sun filtering down on your hair
i wish i could run my fingers through it
and smell its flowers

my chest tightens when i peek over the edge
but you aren't afraid at all
balancing when you lean over an edge dropped rock

Ah! to see the flash of your eyes again
in our youth
when i close my own
M Eastman
Written by
M Eastman  40/M/colorado
(40/M/colorado)   
805
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