November 25, 2008
By Thayne Breezee, Rupert, ID

I miss times when having sandy shorts was my only worry
back when the wind seemed to be the only thing in a hurry
back when cold hearts were unknown, only cold water
back when my hair was shorter

Now I worry about coats
And writing love notes
I'm twisting my words
To wash away the urge

To let go, and lose the fight
To things I think about at night
When the moon and stars come out, it's quite neat
Waiting for someone I'll never meet

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