| Four campfires we shared; do the embers still glow? Shadow dancing, tequila shots good and bad, and a rainbow for breakfast. Take me back to the pleasure on our picnic table in the soft rain, tell me more stories of pumas and pioneer graves. You made me sing like a coyote at Moss Lake, but now, far away, the moon hears my panther cries. Your hair is glory-drawn, and you make a damned fine cup of coffee. |
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| Poemission |
| For Joy |
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