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i hear music in the wind
it wakens me to sing a song of love and beautya melody a symphony
i feel music in mt heart
every song i sing it reminds me of yesterday a lullaby a memory
there are so many songs unsung
so much hope to bring
youve set my heart to music ill sing on
youve left an imprint on my heart
you have taught me how to live a life thats filled with music
a passion yet to give
when i hear laughter
when i hear sining
when i hear music
i think of u
when i hear music
by Michael martian
I need a break.
It’s not you,
I just need time to work on myself
And I can’t do that with you around.

I need time to remember how to fall in love,
And who knows,
Maybe it wont work out...
And you can come back when it’s over.

I promise we’ll do all the things we love to do together,
Like binge eating,
Skipping class,
Drinking ourselves to sleep,
And crying in the shower.

But I feel like we need some time apart,
So please,
Just leave for a little while.
 Jan 2018 Summer Shellhamer
Lunar
have you ever wondered
why   am   i   always
f  a  s  c  i  n  a  t  e  d
with the phenomena
of     a    red and rare
l u n a r   e c l i p s e?

with every time we meet,
i turn red;
but with every time we part,
i don't turn blue.

rare doesn't mean
"once in a lifetime."
it only means that
you'll always return,
no matter how long it takes.

and i believe that
someday
for sure
again:
*i'll see you.
aren't we all fascinated with the things, events, and people which come rare?
it makes us cherish them well.

(j.m.)
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Her tears tell tales of misery,
Her smiles,untold stories...
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