Tuesday, 15 February 2011



There was a clearing in the forest
A mile down the road
I thought that when I grew up
I would sit there with my love

Now there is a tangled fallen tree
And a constant puddle from the rain
I visit sometimes on my own

If you love me, let me know
And if I love you, we can sit
in the puddle and climb the tree
High enough to spot
A new clearing

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