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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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