Sing a Song of Sixpence
When words were once enough,
To make the difference;
And took me somewhere high.
As if I had heard someone say…
“soft landings are not free”
How I remember the winter to be an honest season
In which I might become a bit more of who I am.
Another thin minute to befall an aged way,
To bring a bright thought to my heavy mind,
As I was broken from my fall.
Until I stumbled upon sound words, in a forest of air.
And then I held it all…
To make the difference.
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