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Jan 2013
waiting for him to ride by on his bike
Bringing with him the air of summer and grass stained clothes
We ride together, speeding through puddles
Speeding though problems like they are
but puddles- oil stained
we ride through time, without rhyme or reason
Without purpose or direction
we leave that oak tree
Together. Free.
Free.together.
A poem I wrote with my friend brinley :)
Sahil Suri
Written by
Sahil Suri
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