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Our Limb

Branches grow but do we see them Twist and turn Which tree do you belong to? I ask. Which tree do I belong to? I ask. The scene of love transcends through all beings Passion filters up the new bark, falling and filling each crevice. I dance in my own wind, I turn I cannot tell whose branch is whose Smiles play tricks on mouths The trees know, they must.
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Written by
courtney-dougal
American
Published
Nov 1, 2011
Lines·Words
17·70
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