-and the last bugs of summer
think about autumn and know their works
are done
carry on or chase a breeze
and find a summer someplace else
find a summer some place else
i still maintain that the sun is insane
to try and drain but never warm
enough to dry this teardrop in my eye.
tiny salted rain drop with
your reflection in it's window
looking over miles and miles
and asking my lips to whisper this;
close your eyes and the sun is
love, and I'll be here
when your day is done,
you, my only
one.
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