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Wind

Sitting in a class, Thinking of my past, I saw a flower in the glass, Which mean the wind had passed, Sometimes I wish to fly, With you nearby, Sitting in the clouds, Leaving our lifes without doubts, Then the teacher comes slap me, For dreaming about u and me, I have to set you free, see you where ever the wind will be.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 7/5/2011 12:39:00 PM
What a pleasure for me to be able to read your wonderful poetry today Duval. Love, Carol
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