I find myself standing here, bucket in hand trying to keep my boat floating.
Bucket after bucket.
I just want to be dry. Warm and dry.
When the sound of rushing water dulls into background noise I dream of you. You and your laugh, you and your sweet sweet laugh. We're in a boat all our own. Painted yellow and set to sail a few too many times. But it is ours and that is all that matters to us. Sometimes I dream of porch swings, and late night stories, but no matter what I always dream of you.
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