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Oct 28
Our love has wilted
like the blanching wind
Although its not the revile
in the morning
its about your tears
and how you wish
away tomorrow
When today is the stet

Its not the banjo
that plays occasionally
Its the truth blowing precariously

The branches learn to bend
We took the side road to Bexhill
We saw the flames of our love dissipate
thatΒ Β early spring
Written by
antony glaser  61/M/croydon
(61/M/croydon)   
26
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