Feel the breeze and listen;
trees rustle their silver dollars in the wind-
as the soft of my soul, beneath a fragile pride
sings to remember, to appreciate and to praise.
I’ve all the songs in the world to satisfy,
and yet none reach so deep
as one gifted from the heart
Where upon that canvas, is a story and drawbridge
to meet the earnest touch of who you are.
Soft pause for a pure desire,
of sunshine, country roads and June bugs
of homemade lemonade on the porch
...with you
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