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for Wanda

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Fading wet grass is freedom;
tickle upon anguish of dying Spring -

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Oh, quiet stars
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I think Heaven can hear my vowels
at 2:00 AM when breezes -
Grandpa picked apples
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I could already feel the breeze
whispering through my tresses -
I still need your breath
to drift into dreams, -
I never noticed the gray
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for: Amaranthine Lover
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He never gets tired of my smile
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He always called me darling;
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When I am not quite strong enough
to face another sun, you come -
It is so easy to adore you
