poetry & things

The bittersweet

On mornings like this, I have pressing things

on my mind – digging and weeding, uncovering things

I lay here thinking of that time last spring

wandering the green fields, or in the canyon lands

under a skyful of blue, and I can’t seem to move

cannot rise from this bed, I play records

spinning round my head, I play records on repeat

the bittersweet of you and me.

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