stand in line
till your name's called
jump in the sand
barefoot and bald
jump up and down
till they notice you
question not the love
but what they do
scream inside
the quiet zone
when the coffee's made
and the afternoon scones
the rum-bl-ings of
a stomach that can't be full
and the sighing of
the sorrowful.
1 comment:
beau-tiful.
i love it.
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