| Exalted Corn God (one of three hundred) ( @ 2009-05-21 23:50:00 |
Summer's majesty, upon us at last.
I slip on my sneakers to greet the morn jogging;
laces met with a hand even looser,
I will not tighten them- it hurts.
I slip on my sneakers to greet the morn jogging;
laces met with a hand even looser,
I will not tighten them- it hurts.