Sleeping In The Grass - Poem by James McLain
as words hers always were.
Inside her face of dreams.
And love could pass us by.
Of all the places we could
sleep, should be.
She chose to sleep with me.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye