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The wind is soft to me tonight
The wind is soft to me tonight John is in the garden and Marge is sitting on the balcony talking to Anthony and I’m walking through the kitchen trying to find you. Someone said you were in the bathroom but that was a while ago now. They’re starting the fireworks soon and before the air
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June and a tangerine
It is June and I wake in pieces of children- the children I won’t have, the child I won’t see again.
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Love letter to Spring
I taste your words Even with your back just turning: Your breath is warm enough to sleep in.
