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April 15th: An Ottava Rima |
Our past tasted like ouzo, petrichor
And need. Now, we drive dreams, drink wine, bleed ink
We don’t have to count pennies or coup anymore
No worries about what others may think
‘Cuz think what they will, still we know the score
Buried ‘neath the mountain, we came back from the brink
Our future tastes like legend and meat
Like triumph, like blood, like sinew, like heat.
copyright 2018
John LaMar
Elison |
