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Jan 2014
A tender finger strokes down an aged cheek, as loving eyes stare deep into familiar pools. The mind sees far behind them into dark brown wells. No words are needed; they have never been needed. Tears slowly blurring the windows through which life gazes; knowing; always having known; somewhere inside…
                                         .... If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.
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Written by
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   Jamie King
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