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Dec 2009
Once things seemed so easy, so clear.
Simple were the words we spoke
Beauty in the eyes that looked
Through the window of my mind
Through the shadows, into light
Soft yellows, warming my face
Looking out the window
Into the street
Past the empty branches
To the road below
That tells so many stories
Of the ones who know
The ones that laugh
The ones who cry
The ones who wounder
The ones who lye
Below the tree
Above the city
On a mountain side
Written by
Mary Pritchard
534
 
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