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Mar 2016
My heart rushed to fields ,
Frolicking around the plants,
Smelling the fresh dew ,
Twirling till I abruptly fall.
Looking up at cirrus clouds.
Plentiful batch of white cotton candy.
No amount of clouds remind me of you.
Where you are , is what you call home.
Where I am , is what I call lost.
Nicole Corea
Written by
Nicole Corea  burbank
(burbank)   
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