Parading

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. —Edna St. Vincent Millay
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April,
April,
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. —Edna St. Vincent Millay
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
—Edna St. Vincent Millay

atoms

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