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May 2018
Sometimes, the sight of your two-tone,
your brick, your stone - All hail! -
demands my glee. It rips it out of me.
It is sacrificed on the mountaintop
for a distant harvest, sometimes;
for surviving winter under your oaks,
your maples, your falling branches.

But I love your cold, your winter,
knowing winters make us strong.
All hail.
Remembering college life.
Breon
Written by
Breon  28/M
(28/M)   
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