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Exchanged for the plates they made and painted with colors representing springtimes I hardly remember was the sidewalk way too warm to walk upon with barefeet I hardly remember Scratched through entire lines of the notes you wrote to me lines I could never see which must not be for me to read imaginably the most precious words I could never see The ghost of our old dreams when he sometimes visits asks if I still care for love sung in folk songs and blue tragic chapters I still care

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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