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July 2015
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September 2016


You waft in with little warning,
invading my space with the expectations
of something more than I can see.
I find myself longing
for your cool, soft touch on my skin
and the relief that only you can give.
And as you pass by,
with disappointment hanging thick in the air,
I have a singular thought in mind:
What I would give for a little rain.

Pops 2015