Like She whence she me if grateful dead...

Like She
Whence she me sees
As if grateful dead
Like Jerry Garcia singing blues
All over an existence...
A song bluish white
Again emerges deep so quiet
As emerges the song from a golden of a dawn
As emerged once a Rachel from the morn
Like filled waved by springy breeze
As a field of brown rustling whispering corns...
as if by Her teased...

And like Grateful Dead
Jerry there for me sings...
As if there in souls he brings
A curious loving bluish Peace...


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