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Untitled
August 25, 2009
I wish I could start at our house
When I’m eighty and you’re eighty four
In the matching armchairs we joked about
While doing puzzles on your bedroom floor
I'd steel myself with the fact
Your hand is still rests on my pachyderm cheek
Then I’d come back, I promise
To this time when our love is still weak
© Brianna R., Montgomery, MN
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