one day in may you'll find
an elm grove spotted with ivy vine
a covered bridge to a place you insist
is always worth the time
down a path on hampton's back
and buried by the banks
feeling low from the order in stone
that their epitaphs take
ooooh
just like a new mint sprig
who only gets sweeter when you muddle it
pearly stays in a saffron glaze
but I always waste the day
you're an over-looked, never-hooked
beachcombed find
from the littered backwash
of the high tide line
ooooh
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