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  • Days flip by like pages in a book,
    Sleeping heart sighs for a love that’s not around,
    Sculptured thoughts form, blunt edges chiseled, fine….
    In the waking hours of morn there are no other sounds….

    Through forests of my soul to the water I am drawn,
    To watch the river roll never-ending towards the sea.
    I see that my own life is somewhat like this river…
    Flowing towards the ocean that will set my spirit free…
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