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Aug 2013
A Blast from the past,
I am wind ripping sail from mast,
But I am your friend am I not ?
I send a breeze upon your face and through your hair,
A maiden, golden braided and fair
I am wind letting leaves see the world
Through your home I swirled,
Unnesting owls from there home whirled
Written by
Alexander Ross
448
 
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