Your Summer Our Summer…

by donnor

Our summer… I wander in the field; a break from the darkroom. Coming up from the basement; the waves of light washed over our day, as it now turns to night. I asked my girl, but the lady just asked for a smoke; back again and I just want to get back again. The moon, how does it do that? Oh well; the whistle moans over the darkness; who’s driving that train? Did they just get back, or are they going? Our days hang long, let’s hang on...

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