Sunday, May 3, 2009


I dare not go back to she 
she won't like the same thing
every time so its got to
be old got to be new.

Just a little blue pane
of glass to not wear.
Not wear out but carry.
We were cleansed of sin.

A son for her, girl for me.
And they turned out more so
than we could have dreamed.
So the ice melts in the glass.

Seeds are in the core of nations.
The Pink Rose Queen has roots.
The sun shines just the same.
The monkey finds its limbs.   

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