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Jun 2013
I can hear the song of thunder,
The pounding in my viens,
A heart to heart encounter,
An exchange with no need of names.
The water pouring from the heavens high,
A open heart to the rushing rains,
Slipping away in powerful tides,
These eyelids are just the window frames.
Wrote this during a HUGE thunder storm.
Natalie Wood
Written by
Natalie Wood  Maine, USA
(Maine, USA)   
491
   Weeping willow
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