My happy place is rocks, seashells, and crystals
that have long since forgotten their story
but were kept because I found them
My happy place adorns my window sill
or travels in a box adorned with flowers
I build temples around their decorum
And the easy way I use my words
makes Buddha laugh and Sheba cry
My only point of reference is you
You, coming in and out of view
Rocks, seashells, and crystals skew
the matter that is my window sill
I guess I still want to be with you
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