Dreams of Mary Anne
I stand before my open door
And watch a wicked northeast wind
My eyes can tell it’s loud as hell
But I can’t hear a God damned thing
There are some benefits to age
My hearing has in years grown dim
The storm may pound and thunder sound
But I’m going back to bed again
So as I watch the pounding rain
And wonder when this storm began
My thoughts disperse as I immerse
Into my dreams of Mary Anne
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