Pure Fiction

November 13, 2010
when the stars were white and clear
and the air was thick with summer
I remember
a hayride
where we sat
and someone played guitar
and people sang
it was bumpy
but the hay was soft
I sat on the floor
and leaned against your knees
your hands in my hair
and
I would tilt my head up
to look at you
until you noticed
and looked down
and kissed my forehead
I think I fell asleep like that
you carried me in like a baby
and everything was sweet and good and
gone





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