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Feb 2012
Like the damp heat from crushed bones of fresh water plants,
Like the quiet whisper of hearts when strangers hold hands.
Like let the wind drift pine spines high,
through mountain belly and minds
Like bend, bind, believe, rewind -
Like befriend time
Like the water he smell like,
Like the mornings that wake right,
Like when the grass mats warm salt flats,
              and the little river that laughs in laps
Written by
quinn ja
668
   Emily Tyler
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