I woke up Monday dreaming of you.
When realizing I had no where to go I smiled.
Deep in my covers I stare at the pine.
Raven's croak and smeared grey clouds dance.
A breeze has come to tell me secrets.
Letting go is bringing tears to the well.
Deep inside is the reservoir.
"The perfection in theater is that it's over the second it's done." ~William Hurt
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