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Twig of love
Its not the revile
in the morning
its about your tears
and how you wish
away tomorrow
When today is the stet
Its not the sound of zephyr
that plays occasionally
Its the truth blowing precariously
The branches learn to bend
We took the side road to Bexhill
We saw the flames of our love dissipate
that early spring
Copyright ©
Antony Glaser
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