Fresh Grass …

indexWhen the emotions are moving base,

the rant to the world never stops,

she’s this, she’s that, she’s something else, she’s just not quiet right.

I’m moving on to better pastures where the grass seems faster & fresh.

I’ll find my new love there, in our little nest.

We’ll have caviar & champagne while sitting on blue sheets.

I’ll wait while my new love grows fat, incubating one from between.

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