Old Remain
I cut the grass
And I got a tan
I bleached the bath
And I loved the smell
Like filling my car breathing in fumes
Like fresh baked bread
Filtered coffee
And fried onions
The simple thing's
Are Libertines
The senses wake
In butterflies
And goose bump touches
That matter more than
Satin flushes emanate
In leagues of old
The thing's we change
We wished remain
Copyright © Christopher Flaherty | Year Posted 2017
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