Clean Slate/Zebra Cakes

Birds flock to the trees

Squeak, squeak, squeak

They whistle, they sing, they speak

 

Sweet indica

Sweet indigo

Color me

Color me

Make me vibrant as life

 

I wonder how many stories

The campfire holds

Listening quietly

To the faces all

Around

 

I think love stops

Because it goes on

Autopilot

Cruises for a long

But gas burns up

And on arrival

The couple has no idea

Where they’ve arrived

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2 thoughts on “Clean Slate/Zebra Cakes

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