I have been noticing this recurring theme. Thought it should become a list.
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I open the clock; take the key
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If our souls were but a weave, a cloth, torn and darned,
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Sat on a rock -- the light played across the brook --
let the sun soak into me. The light danced -
Old men melt into clay.
Their stories left for children, -
Her smiles danced --
froth on a wave, -
I open the clock; take the key
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It’s in the details.
The thin strand of hair: -
When chaos coalesced
provided earth the dance of a satellite

