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poetry about love
i miss you
the last time it snowed,
we sat in our primitive trench,
waiting for
mrs. robinson's cats
to come out and play.
we cupped the snow into
frosty grenades,
waiting for the cats
in stillness, like
hungry castaways from
Survivor
waiting for the fish
to come to them.
and the cats sauntered
around the fence
before bounding to the top.
then we aimed
at the green of their eyes,
suppressing silent giggles.
they hissed and leapt off
the fence, running to the
solitude and safety of
old mrs. robinson.
now that you're gone,
all i can do is
look forward to
the blizzards, and
when the cats come out and play,
i hope that maybe,
just maybe,
you'll come back and
join me.
--daubachs_girl_23
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