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Cider-Stained Sleeves
You say you want to see fall from my perspective,
and I laugh, thinking of every maple tree
I’ve leaned against,
hands stained by apples split open,
the cider I’ve spilled on my sleeves.
No posts yet.
You say you want to see fall from my perspective,
and I laugh, thinking of every maple tree
I’ve leaned against,
hands stained by apples split open,
the cider I’ve spilled on my sleeves.