Late summer beauty at days-end
Pipe full, tea leaves brewing
The Hummingbird was in-tune
Sunsets were worshipped once, and I figure those were better times
Sunset pickin’ sent the evening moon its wake-up call in the days of our kin
Then crack was invented
No one sh*ts on Mmm Bop in this house.
This isn’t even a poem; is it?
Fin.








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