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Jun 12
While the first edge of the Moon arrived
She'd have been on her way
But the sky runs late by the riverside
And hindsight shows the way

November I awoke, no rain
The clouds were through with me
And on that hilltop looking down
I reckoned she'd agree

Years gone and she dreams of me
What shameful things I'd say
As rarely as she walks through mine
I can't get the time of day
Written by
Chris  M
(M)   
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