Ballads can be crazy things
Bringing about stretched
musings
& lines from poles that
don’t exist
See, he is not fishing for you.
They sit with you for
evening tea
Swooning shadows with his
cologne
Wrapping around your heart
until you moan
& you only call it
sighing
They frolic neath a childlike
sun
& leave you obvious
& glistening
Resting for hours, the
lyrics sound!
& there’s not one good
thing you’re missing.
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