sitting in the garden
sun-kissed face and falling
through the leaves 
leaving no trace.

(i haven't been there, i did not mind)

contol is a bizzare feeling
seeming to be freeing 
it's not really
really not 

(repeatedly, repeatedly) 

i wonder how long it takes you
tip-toeing tripping around gardens
half-way along the earth 
you slip on stone 

sun's still shining 
where we're both alone

in spring, plant something for me.

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