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Longing

When the October winds blow, I think of you
and your worn-out, much too small cowboy boots.
When the July air, thick and sweet as honey, envelops my senses, I think of you
and your hatred for things uneven.
And when the January snowflakes fall, I think of you
and I wait.

When the glaciers melt and freeze the lake alongside which we slept, I think of you
and your pale, freckled skin.
When the sun shines down your dusty street, I think of you
and your trampoline, always covered in pine needles.
And when the undercurrent pulls at my feet, I think of you
and I miss you.

When the daylight closes its weary doors, I think of you
and your laugh that makes the birds sing.
When the nighttime opens its tired eyes, I think of you
and your strength that still astounds me.
And when the dew clings to the roses in our backyards, I think of you
and I know, somehow, that it’ll be alright.




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