The mist, the clouds
the flags, were blowing,
I wasn't sure where I
was going,
Post Office, perhaps
or to lunch,
lethargic morning
but I had a hunch,
That you might be
lethargic too
we could find
something to do,
Drove down the road
to your town place,
knocked on the door
and face-to-face,
In your robe
a cup of brown,
you said come in
and we set down,
Your robe slipped off
the coffee fell
and the morning turned out
very well ...
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