Could it be
That I'm finally free,
Given the chance
Again to dance
In the sunshine
That you have made mine?
Slowly these vines
That grew my lines,
Stopped to creep
And went to sleep.
Thus I woke
In the golden yoke
Of shunshine and moonlight
And the comforting sight
Of your smile
And our idle sighs.
Monday, April 02, 2007
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