A tall, aging home built on the foundation of stone Scripted with heavy routine and scheduling Lies beyond the tall Oaks and bendy rivers That encompass the town
The light of a nearby car Began its ritual of dancing Against my pale blue walls And in turn led the dance
Through his aging, once jet-black beard Came the movement of his chapped lips Which drew out the beating of war drums Sad war drums
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5/22/2025 2:09:43 AM # 1.0.0