Saturday, July 2, 2011


Breeze on the harbor,
Birds on the shore.
Maybe it's fine,
But I pine,
For something a bit more.

Sun in the distance,
Stars in the sky.
I can't place when,
But now and then,
I get the urge to cry;

For times long past,
For something long ago.
For soft summer days,
Spent in fun-loving ways,
Before winter came with snow.

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