Marmalade, Marmalade
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
In barns of maple and calico,
Quiet sounds enter the mind
Like buried treasures you’ll never find.
So I make a horse and you make a saddle.
The big flood comes and we both find a paddle.
Marmalade, Marmalade where did you go?
Perhaps that taco shack north of Kokomo.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2016
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