The Ides of WinterA Poem by Tate MorganOur days lit by constant sunshine strength in numbers was our design In hand me downs we ran through town with baseball bat and ball of twine
Our days lit by constant sunshine strength in numbers was our design In hand me downs we ran through town with baseball bat and ball of twine
By golden skies and rustled tree for reasons yet unknown to me My eyes were keen to beauty seen this soul my own as I was free
When Ides of Winter come to be oh times when lives were all carefree Follow my track all the way back to friends who meant so much to me
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© 2016 Tate MorganAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorTate MorganMarion , OHAboutAvailable from Amazon XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I am a product of the Midwest. Raised on the plain states of North America. I was nurtured on a .. more..Writing
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