,
the world just seems
a kinder place, a gentle grace
of moon-spill murmured song.
our feet a-swim, we
pebble stories, rebel glories;
bid our lungs to hum along.
::
In November, we poem.
,
the world just seems
a kinder place, a gentle grace
of moon-spill murmured song.
our feet a-swim, we
pebble stories, rebel glories;
bid our lungs to hum along.
::
In November, we poem.
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LOVE this one, De!