| glen | ||
| jennifer |
you wonder how these things begin well, this begins with a glen it begins with a season which, for want of a better word we might as well call September it begins with a forest where the woodchucks woo and leaves wax green and vines entwine like lovers try to see it not with your eyes, for they are wise but see it with your ears the cool green breathing of the leaves and hear it with the inside of your hand the soundless sound of shadows flicking light celebrate sensation recall that secret place you've been there you remember that special place where once just once in your crowded sun-lit lifetime you hid away in shadows from the tyranny of time that spot beside the clover where someone's hand held your hand and love was sweeter than the berries or the honey or the stinging taste of mint it is September before a rainfall a perfect time to be in love |
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