Oh, and again with those dandelion hips and a now crushed tulip plant, when will they ever learn. Curtsy for the courtesy, to a young chap, chaps wearing and flirting with you young Mol. And again, as you bent down, the lowers of that flowing dress muddled and muddied in the dirt, transpired to convert the pink laced bottom to evil brown, and mitigating black; oh the coniving, territorial dirt from the ground whence it came! But you flirt factitious and and then facetious you ask, how do we all do; who's for the truth, baby, it's your fire, I hope you don't get burned.
thoughts quelled at the pass beyond summer's last vacant face; out which beyond, one falls over edge to maiden space! I might have lost once, and was crushed by the weight of frayed sunlight, yet in it's grasp I was trailed to peaceful slumber atop dusty, wood floors. In my minds eye, hurling now, I spied two dogs from my periferal, in my position, hands and knees, the crackle of a record player, churning just out of ear shot, the melody a myriad of folksy melange, a jaunt from the side shutters me, they two, growling, tugged for my waste, snarls turned moist, as their noses pressed my cheeks, I laughing now upside down, in infant duress, hopelessly smiling. I lay waiting as this time shrivels, quakes and turns to rubble as ash, molten, glistens and breaks. I then listened, eyes squinted to pain, for footsteps and creaks, the autumn crush of dried leaves, blown through the front door, and the smell of fire now smoldered, the tea kettle pierces a light hum of silence, and cool drives in more leaves, as I turn to an open door! At dusk in fall, as night appears it's darkest, before lighting to the moon's basking glow. The night seems to blush as it's presence is met, and before
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