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Ode To S.F. - 1964

I miss the mist that kissed my face. I miss the joy of hills that race to catch the bay. I miss the life the Monk tones, the cable car bell, the foghorn groans that filled the bay. I miss the Coit and the Golden Gate the parks with views so great of the endless bay. I left my love my life, my soul in the city so warm in a life gone cold by the beautiful bay.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




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