Dense June air drowns my lungs into the sea
of wild blossoming flowers of May.
While the hummingbirds sing with the bees
and the sun dips into oceans and bays.
Lay still in these endless days of salad.
Just as Caesar laid still to Augustus
and Shakespeare wrote many timeless ballads.
May us, and our love, be just as endless.
Written in stories and told in folklore,
as legends who fought against all odds
stumbling to catch our ground at the shore.
With no hope for reverence or applause.
A hopeful, yet lofty dream that may be:
Us together. Or that you could love me.

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