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Mar 2019
One memory
Would endure everything
Always coming back like the bounding footprints left beneath each drop of rain
And that is
The smell of her hair in the morning air
The stringiness and collective song
The shortness of breath
The vibrance of wave
And all at the length of a violin's strings born long
Torn is such a memory of song
Between fondness and regret
Her Wet Hair
Seanathon
Written by
Seanathon
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     Cassia, Andrew Guzaldo c, --- and Jade
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