Wednesday, January 31, 2024

Hippie Grass

If lavender was green,

make me a salad. 

If you were charming and true,

wrote a poem for you.

When the tea was warm,

rain had its romance.

But when I figured out the past,

the future looked bleak.

When the rays hit the bar,

rainbows dance to your brow.

When we were traveling,

we lost the map to the road.

I have a string,

but the band won't march for the lost glory. 





The Fictional Therapist

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