Watermelancholy.
By artis
Watermelancholy on a summer afternoon spitting seeds into the grass that frames the fields of June juices run in rivulets pale pink across his chin matching quite exactly to his lips formed in a grin sunlight warms the tee-shirt stains from watermelon spills each piece excised carefully through 7 year old skills breezes whistle soft tunes only heard when we are small rinds lay scattered...green commas that paused upon their fall watermelancholy is a memory that I miss thus I lift my pen to savour moments of sweetness Written February 18th, 2002 © on Feb 18 2002 03:43 AM PST other
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"Watermelancholy on a summer afternoon..."