1659
5.198
17.vii.24
aubade
in every bright where
time now
so you and I
must else
or otherwise
the whims of why
beyond itself
the fire our far
and only rose to tend
this pink in breeze
world’s edge unseen
a looming list
of light
day till
made season of
all sang
not yet
not yet
but each
in other’s arms up
lovely and cosy and nook
how you were tucked into
who knew?
why
only
you and I
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