Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Trail Comments
Rating: ★0.0
To the library, I go, station by station. You, peak of my dreams. Those pigeons come to gather around my terrors, and for a time, say hello, daring on my palm, swift, ascending for a next flight.
I sit in the park, waiting for your call. My phone is dead, as your voice far and away.
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7/26/2025 3:41:46 AM # 1.0.0
