And the road goes on forever in the winter along the river. As the night sky grows much deeper the stars become that much clearer. And to starlit nights we pretenders won't surrender, just press on. How the tops of the trees match the shapes of our mouths, closed tight dried and hollow.
Beyond the smell of fresh cut grass there's a man who's
lived for a while. Got lots to say about the ways a man can smile.
If I lose my voice it would be a lesson in using choice, time, and discretion, knowing when to face it, seeing where to place it.
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