The sun is shinning
The thin slices of Apple are drying out
in a wooden basket, with a bee flying over them
All six chickens are busy hunting warm in the garden
I sit down in the swing with a cup of tea, remembering you
The thin slices of Apple are drying out
in a wooden basket, with a bee flying over them
All six chickens are busy hunting warm in the garden
I sit down in the swing with a cup of tea, remembering you
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