she's
a
marshmallow
a
breath
of
fresh
air
my
velveteen
rabbit
I
want
to
crawl
up
your
legs
pull
myself
up
your
shirt
slide
in
your
pocket
the
clouds
hung
over
us
the
sun
fell
upon
them
the
feels
were
ancient
she's
a
golden
joan
of
arc
my
own
minstrel
show
seabiscuit
by
a
nose
the
warmth
came
on
us
and
arrested
the
clouds
told
the
breeze
to
move
along
we
talked
in
the
rain
we
didn't
mind
raindrops
dripping
in
our
eyes
he
embarrassed
me
seemed
to
be
the
main
theme
but
that
was
long
ago
row
your
boat
gently
down
the
stream
merrily
life
is
but
a
dream
she
said
my
poem
should
be
about
apples
her
most
favorite
thing
do
you
remember
the
mime
the
skyline
love
our
child
was
mesmerized
the
wind
crept
up
on
me
then
the
rains
came
I
saw
it
coming
the
whole
time
it
was
an
image
of
her
leaning
over
and
him
holding
her
breast
the
window
was
open
for
a
long
time
and
the
wind
blew
in
the
leaves
come
to
bed
osip
anna
marina
let
russia
fall
over
me
tell
me
you
love
me
tell
me
again
and
again
and
again
forever
another
sleepless
night
is
just
another
chance
to
write
you
a
poem
the
way
her
leg
crosses
over
her
other
leg
just
like
her
father
he
laid
on
the
wet
concrete
the
people
weren't
satisfied
with
his
i'm
fine
the
roses
gestated
their
leaves
had
that
rosy
glow
of
expectant
mothers
any
kind
of
fool
could
see
there
was
something
in
everything
about
you
- player
goodnight
poems
goodnight
big
sky
goodnight
small
animals
goodnight
pines
the
sun
came
up
behind
the
clouds
crows
swooped
the
heads
of
some
passersby
they
hold
hands
while
they
walk
sit
close
like
v
close
we
don't
really
do
that
no
one
good
likes
to
talk
about
themselves
only
baddies
like
it
- noland chiliha
I
stood
by
the
warm
oven
and
read
his
poems
like
beautiful
gifts
there
might
be
rain
sun
clouds
wind
I'll
just
watch
the
sky
and
see
what
it
does
'twas
midnight
oh
crap
i
thought
i've
got
to
think
of
another
poem
I'll
write
about
her
neck
and
where
it
meets
her
curls
and
how
I
love
her
only
wind
is
prized
by
the
poet
what
I'm
sure
of
are
the
corridors
- marina tsvetaeva
she
always
has
books
books
books
books
and
books
pulling
more
books
from
her
bag
I'd
rather
not
forget
that
dream
I'd
like
to
live
in
it
touching
me
she
carries
herself
low
to
the
ground
she
is
both
slow
and
quick
to
move
I
remember
lips
opening
up
to
mine
like
a
seashell's
matching
halves
- marina tsvetaeva
I
still
like
though
the
too
steeped
black
tea
and
there's
its
bitter
love
for
me
the
crowd
kept
touching
me
and
I
wondered
what
my
conception
was
like
a
few
mornings
now
the
raccoon
and
I've
been
out
to
greet
each
other
