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Calling the morning. Gazing at the dawn like she's Come once too often. The girl in meadowlark dressing Warns me to be silence (slightly) And hands me a bouquet Of morning dew sensation Wet in my bossom of Today. She takes away with her A breath (breadth, breast) of her own hair And locks it in a jar (of broken promises). And says to me "Wait!" (Drama, don't be tense) "for me as I waited for you." |