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Our Old Place

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Our Old Place

I like old cars and sand bars and warm spring days. Playing in the river in cut off jeans and drinking moonshine in bright star light. Warm camp fires on cool spring nights and passion that warms the chill of the night- making love deep into the night.

But things are not quite right even on this perfect night. This is but a memory most dear that painfully reminds me that you aren't here.

I can not be here again in the same place in the same space. It's too lonely even after all these years and after ten-thousand tears.


At GA Graeme challenged us to write a drabble or a composition of 100 words.

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