Summer of '69

I grasp left handed
Where she last touched me lightly
Hastily scribing

The music flowing
Over airwaves and downstairs
To synch up real time

This is my summer
With just a chip and a chair
For the anti-psy

She can see me now
Picking up that old six string
And wearing my shirt

The gifts discarded
Truest without intention
Spying from the stairs

Unbound by my time
Looking for a ball and chain
The same as I do

How now do we meet
I would not decline a dream
But how 'bout my place?

Step out of the box
See me through your eyes only
Let me warm you up

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