The Days of Our Innocence
remember making out by the pier
I twirled your hair
you drew ever near
to touch the hand of innocence
frozen in time
the frost on the leaves pressed for closure
nearer ever nearer one hand to hold a heart will mend
the Cedars and the Oak
makes an idol and bows down to it
through days of yore,
a tug at the heart will light a spark to what we need to go
sort to inflate the common ego
your sins like the morning mist
caressed by a kiss
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