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It was a colorful town on the river down. Full of promise, white fences, green fields and rainbow trout. Pearl snap purple striped shirts and shiny silver belt buckles. The sound of classic twang rang aloud from speakers abound... Seeking ever-present pink cheek disguises and marigold sundresses, Light's intent never bent by heaven-sent country curves so supple and round. Repent. No surprises to speak of, No stresses less be told. No rumor-fueled chuckles,   No sleek compromises, No barely fair careless hot messes...Yet to unfold and demise us. The night calls, The sun falls, the moon's face crawls high into the above dark space. All is peaceful and quiet by the day's review and so defines this place. On cue, old is devoured by new. Dawn again. So abruptly & suddenly skews the universe. Every curved dress is swooned to pine and guess. Roy G. rides in, out of the blue, painting the whole town red, in the yellow high hot of the day, with a country mile bright white smile in kind and black heart, leaving a broken heart pile behind. Mr. Biv slips out in the black of night. His indifference blinding beyond the spectrum of light. by R.Craig David-09/2015
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Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
"The Town of Palette" by R. Craig David
It was a colorful town on the river down. Full of promise, white fences, green fields and rainbow trout. Pearl snap purple striped shirts and shiny silver belt buckles. The sound of classic twang rang aloud from speakers abound... Seeking ever-present pink cheek disguises and marigold sundresses, Light's intent never bent by heaven-sent country curves so supple and round. Repent. No surprises to speak of, No stresses less be told. No rumor-fueled chuckles,   No sleek compromises, No barely fair careless hot messes...Yet to unfold and demise us. The night calls, The sun falls, the moon's face crawls high into the above dark space. All is peaceful and quiet by the day's review and so defines this place. On cue, old is devoured by new. Dawn again. So abruptly & suddenly skews the universe. Every curved dress is swooned to pine and guess. Roy G. rides in, out of the blue, painting the whole town red, in the yellow high hot of the day, with a country mile bright white smile in kind and black heart, leaving a broken heart pile behind. Mr. Biv slips out in the black of night. His indifference blinding beyond the spectrum of light. by R.Craig David-09/2015
rcraig-david
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50/M/American
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
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