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In the early morning I sit By the window sill sun-lit, Watching the snow melt, slow, And I hold you warm, Beneath my hands. My heart just rose and fell. I love the way you smell Of sugars and foreign. You linger and then are gone, And my heart races, Because you've made it so. I'd fade away into the air If you would ever not be there, If you would ever cease to be My morning's cup of coffee. --James Moening |
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