I so want to immerse myself in soft velvet memories to
Cushion the jaggedness of present truths unwanted
Alas I fear my heart just will not stand the trip whole
I Mourn more than souls tonight I mourn existence ...
Browning, old fellow,
Your leaves grow yellow,
Beginning to mellow
As seasons pass.
Your cover is wrinkled,
And stained and sprinkled,
And warped and crinkled
From sleep on the grass.
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