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Jan 2012
What beautiful sounds
Do you whistle through my ears?
Chords of the heart
Are what I hear
Your notes of ecstacy
Slowly soothe my ears
You speak a language that knows not letters
No sentence nor stanza can contain your tears
You skip introductions and goodbyes
Instead you pull the latch and enter the door
That flows you down through corridors of years
Held in passages of thought
Like a winding staircase
Through the capsules of my very heart
Truman Brislin Miller
986
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