The same tousle burnt-sugar hairs

The symmetrical face, the same pair of shoes

Wide shoulders,the slouchy look of his mouth  that always seems to say yeah,

This is how he looks when he wakes up.

Dizzy and all.

The lasting time he’ll drink a glass of wine

Sobling with tears from his eyes no more.

We shock our heads. O’ Its gonna be gone in  minutes that I sing this song—” but before

He could finished, the drink

He felt to the ground.

Lost thy self in the song.

No way that we can or will scoop it all up again

The song I sing will be prolonging tears

That falls from my eyes

Leaving it for only his righteousness right hand to wash

And when he breath upon her.

The sun breeze.

Dries the eyes.

For another,

Round.

Of

A

Make

Over again