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R
Poems
Jul 2013
Bass Guy at Mass every Sunday (Not Done)
His fingers play the bass,
Just like I wish they would
Rustle through my hair.
His eyes look up at me,
And I look down in despair.
He must know that I like him,
He looks back at me as if so.
I wish I could go up to him,
And say a simple "hello".
Written by
R
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