Saturday, March 08, 2008

A Lost Summer

It is known: what is is,
Their capital is gay Paris;
Children grow and up
No reason for it to stop.

The tiny country full of war
Fake humility drags on more
Rooted deep in the baseline
No less than comedy divine.

He came and went and locked the door
And nothing was just like before.
The colors swirl, no ounce I gain,
The touch of skin I now disdain.

A summer lost, so full of trifles
"You shall have no play of rifles"
Promised peace and chocolates there
By the desk in the back room where...

What happened? Do I dare?
How deep in the dark I stare?
A mustached man, a flash of pain
"The secret's ours, our domain".

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