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Apr 27
Guess the sage ones will nod their heads.


You were a dream of late nights whose detail
Of rock-n-roll, rap, and a silence dense
Wi' import, of sheer craziness (you thence
Could not abide was it?) are lost.Β Β These hale
Blue skies own nary cloud nor blot to scale;
And how the minutes don't acknowledge hence
Such visions, as lo, baby leaves fr'intents
Now whisper secrets on the wind's exhale.
I burned my fingers oer the tea as twere,
Til oh! they hurt.Β Β Let's say you never knew.
Tea with the toast I dropped ere toasting (poor
As fumbling is) was fraught as wont, yet to
Effect that bracing cuppa I'd yearned fer.
Yes, I should not, erm, sleepwalk is't think you?

...I've run flat out of popcorn for laughing whiles I watch this show called my sorry existence.
Jenny Gordon
Written by
Jenny Gordon  44/F/Elgin, IL
(44/F/Elgin, IL)   
     Jen and Wk kortas
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