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May 8
You slip though my fingers now
like fine sand
although you grew to be you
beneath my hand
you are everyone
I ever wanted you to be
just better
than I hoped you could be
and you wear yourself
so easily
like you are exactly who you
were meant to be
you inhale the day
like it’s here to stay
or not
you make me smile
with pride
by living out loud.
Written by
Frances Raeburn  F/London
(F/London)   
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