Sunday

It’s raining frogs in Avalon

And all the mist is blue

The cards don’t kiss and tell my love

They only speak to you

The symbols are so few my dear

The pathways known to divagate

And tumble down the rabbit holes

And throw around their pretty weight

And so I sit with dusty lips

And wait upon your truth

The magic has all gone now

The signs all stand as mute

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