It was warm there,
under the covers
under the roof
under the rain —

and we talked about
staying forever,
coming out only at night.

We'd drink moonlight,
and feed on falling stars —
dance through fields
to meadowlark-music
in three-four time.

Now it's cold here,
under the covers
under the roof
under the rain —

and forever is a sentence
with no meaning,
no escape,
no reprieve.

The moonshine tastes like goodbye.

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