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Sep 2013
I spread the floor
In the hopes you remain
Underneath it
Or the very least find
Reasons for why I am like this
Why I yearn for you
Why we miss
Each other every time.  
Rhyme to ice the pain
Rain to grow the flowers
Powers of speech I lack.
Back to loving you?
I never left.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
268
   Gwen Johnson and Roni Shelley
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