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4; IN THE MORNING
I love the way you smell in the morning.
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Sweet meadow at sunrise,
so dewy and fresh.
Lavender breeze, herby trees under stars, and it’s the best.
Wrap tight 'round your center.
Puzzle-piece yours to mine.
Don’t quite fit but it’s fine. I’ll show myself out; use the back door when it’s time.
I swear it.
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But we’re not there yet.
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Warm.
Deep breaths.
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Blonde locks a tussled mess.
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And with sand still in your eye, you roll over and cry:
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MAMAAAAAAAAA!
...I’m thirsty.
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