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Aug 2014
Things pass on, though slow it seems
They trickle like water past the rocks in a stream
Start slow as a whisper, and then climb to a yell
Start soft like heaven, then hard as hell.

Some things pass by and resound in ways
Like the whispers of the past that echo in caves
Like the tickle of the wind as it comforts me;
Carries worries on away on the ripple of a breeze.

On honey times a’ racing and times standing still
In the cracks of my heart there’s space left to fill
A minute seems short when forever’s on the line
You’ve given me a limit on winning all your time.
If I had any sort of musical talent I'd make this into a song
Sarah Spang
Written by
Sarah Spang  28/F/Philadelphi, Pennsylvania
(28/F/Philadelphi, Pennsylvania)   
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