Stop being so quiet, I know you can scream
I can see it behind those small features,
that quirky smile, those soft delicate eyes,
Swap out those fresh clean clothes
For some dirty old rags:
Yellow scarves yellow peacoat and
Yellow pumps navigating through the snow.
Let my hands explore your cheeks,
Warming your cold face,
Tussle your hair,
Just let me hold something,
One of your small hands perhaps,
As we lead each other on
Into a world of silliness and
Swing dancing in the breeze.
Sunflowers explode out of the ground where we will play.
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1 comment:
c'est bien. trés bien.
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