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  • First poem, 40 years ago.

    So sad is her soft sweet smile,
    Yet so nice to sit and watch it for awhile;
    So hard to try to understand
    What it is she holds in her tender hands

    Could it be the answer to Everyman’s life?
    Should we dare to chance her, and ask what is right?
    And though she’s just a picture, will she give a firm reply?
    But if this she doesn’t, will her everlasting beauty die?

    I don’t think so, because
    There’s something in her eyes I saw,
    Years ago I think it was;
    It couldn't have been anything but love.
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