Her youth was long lost like the moments between when the recess bell rang and the clearing of the field. She went from being humane and orderly, and committing the  usual conducts of a young lady, and began running rampant. Spirited, was her holy freedom.

It’s a playground. Even Air says so, “you’re my playground love”. Between here, now and never I will think of her. Soft sweet lips, hips curved like pedals of a flower (is that why her nickname is Flora)? My mind moves like a mailman, from one hollow home like thought to the next. Nobody’s here, but I’ll watch for you; I’ll wait for you until you answer. I’m loyally, royally yours.

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