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120 E. 49th, Nyc

Julie, after your passing
snow fell on Manhattan.

You were not there to share
flakes falling fast. silencing

the streets, slowing pedestrians
on perilous sidewalks, but I, 

sweet sister Not-of-my-blood, 
sister of my soul, I was 

there for you in the city 
of our hearts.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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Date: 3/25/2009 6:46:00 AM
What a bleak, cold, but touching elegy. The New York venue gives this an especially somber touch. New Yorkers love their city, most, and the somber, for them, is part of the excitement. Love, daver
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