I never felt as
romantic as that fall day
when i rolled around
in damp musky hay
muffled by the sloshing sounds
of moonshine and rain
those black boots i found
victorian leather and
steel eyelets so black
kicked off to the side
sagging to the side Van Gogh
hidden by more hay
the bottom started
talking one day, flapping its
big flat gabbing mouth
and it wasnt til
you came along that i thought
to fix them and wear
them out on the town
as we waltz through puddles and
hide behind wet oaks!
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