baby, you're comfortable like the morning drive.
cut grass, grain, sunburst white, clear.
you're my mid-morning memory, my cup of mccoffee.
you're the warmth in my hand
and i sip on you gingerly.
ill cradle you from a to b, to z and home,
and if i feel up to the challenge:
if i can wait just 20 minutes more before i walk in that door,
maybe i'll stop at that little flower shop i noticed you noticing.
maybe ill buy you those pretty pink petals
but when i see you
oh, when i see you
oh, i hope you dont mind
that you've been on my mind














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"Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets." - Oscar Wilde
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