Thursday, 11 November 2010

Nothing happened, only dreams;
everything is as it seems;
heart at ease and mind at rest
with never thought of mouth or breast.

So go your way and leave me mine;
I'm not the one to mope and pine.
The days glide by, weeks disappear;
I manage well without you near.

Things aren't too bad; they could be worse;
I think I'll write myself a verse.

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