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On their way to the park, they walk hand-in-hand With the smiles on their face as they have now the band People are looking, some are murmuring and frowning As they see two people like morning and evening. Why do these folks cannot see the light? What's wrong with numbers- the age, weight or height? If they have differences, should they care for those words Or nothing but their hearts with common beats and chords? Yet the woman smiles, she then hugs her man She's not worried at all but now the proud woman Why not? He's a gift, the most precious gem What matters is the love that is real between them.
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Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
THE PROUD WOMAN
On their way to the park, they walk hand-in-hand With the smiles on their face as they have now the band People are looking, some are murmuring and frowning As they see two people like morning and evening. Why do these folks cannot see the light? What's wrong with numbers- the age, weight or height? If they have differences, should they care for those words Or nothing but their hearts with common beats and chords? Yet the woman smiles, she then hugs her man She's not worried at all but now the proud woman Why not? He's a gift, the most precious gem What matters is the love that is real between them.
Inspired by a scene in a park.
Marguerite
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Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
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