smells like rain,
doesn't it, she says while
gently swaying
back and forth on the porch swing.
look at how
the leaves have turned
up, smell the air,
it's getting darker,
the slight breeze.
I could sit here all night,
she says,
drinking her wine,
my hand on her knee.
time could stop right here
and i'd be fine with that.
I agree.
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