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  • I grew up.
    In the shade of its branches, My parents played without knowing.
    We were on our way.

    Many a family memory are rotted it's wonderful shade.

    After lunch wed sit in the breeze and sip on "cafe".
    I loved the shadows reflection in a mirror of black in my cup.

    The sounds of raking of leaves, the years gone by, mixed with laughter LINGER in it's branches.
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