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Feb 2014
Your chances are, your chances are...

Chances are the forecast -
is mistaken.

Rain is inevitable.
Down and bound
to arrive, sourced from
a cloudless sky

Chances are the forecast -
is mistaken.

Death is inevitable.
Down and bound
to arrive.
After one last
cloudless breath
taken, no more.
chances are... I forecast that I would not be here if not for you, breathing in my ear, holding the umbrella over my bowed head as you get wet from a cloudless sky... what a guy ;)
'chances are' is a poem written by Nat Lipstadt... if you don't know him yet, get to know him better here: http://hellopoetry.com/nat-lipstadt/  send him just a little part of you, your scraps, your off cuts and he can turn it into gourmet stew, and you'll think you are eating at a 5 star restaurant...  but most of all, he took a part of me that is my heart, I'm grateful he's looking after it...
Helen
Written by
Helen  nowhere special
(nowhere special)   
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   Sjr1000, Sally A Bayan, ---, ---, Lb and 10 others
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