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S R Mats
Poems
Mar 2015
These Things
-The north winds whistling through the eaves
-Your gritty mumblings in deep sleep
-The rain hitting the bedroom window
-Blown derbies upon the panes
These things brew an ointment,
which I will rub into my soul for eternity.
#eternity
#balm
Written by
S R Mats
F/Houston, TX
(F/Houston, TX)
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