Dancing With Grasshoppers

She says she is feeling down, so I meet her in a field,

Wet with dew,

She goes down a little further, 

But it makes her laugh,


At herself,


She says she needs a change,

So she wears my clothes instead,

Saying they smell like apples,

And cinnamon,


Makes her blush,


Dancing like the sweet grass,

In the winds of autumn,

With auburn hair flying free,

Like her kisses,


On the sly,


Wild mountain honey,

Is her warm slow smile,

On my lips,



Like a butterfly,


She says pick her up tomorrow,

By the cottonwood tree,

And I will,

She is never too heavy for me,


To Carry.



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