Sunday, April 1, 2012

Wind Whistling

In our foolish calendar
It's nice to see there's a day
Specifically devoted
To the likes of clowns like me,
Fellows of infinite zest
For dreaming harlequin dreams,
Always vulnerable to pranks.

This is my high holy day.
Whatever happens today
Might turn out to be untrue,
Which is just how I like it,
Barring only one sure truth
That today you love me more,
As each day I more love you.

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