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Mar 2018
Fine grain sand
Slips through thy hand
And the wind takes you away

The highway demands,
People praise God's plan,
And the wind couldn't carry me away

Times change,
The prosperous count their gains,
Sometimes you never feel the wind blow


Lonely emerald eyes
May always watch the sky
And wait for the wind to find you again
The roof the fiddler played on
Written by
The roof the fiddler played on  28/M/Minnesota
(28/M/Minnesota)   
128
   Nayana Nair
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