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was a gentle breeze
half blowing
and almost there a tune
of saving grace
and love denied a name
mysteries of maple
crush the fragile lawn
while others cling
to circumstance
brittle hangers-on

of seasons
without mercy –
glories climbed between
the crooked limbs –
tho knew not how to grow
while just beneath
the stutter breathes –
dreamed awake
as blossoming to heal
the patient soul

was the bluest sky
a chill withstood –
the want for more
than light
sparrows swam above
a perfect day
would walking me around
remove the wonder
or lead me past the edges
of understanding come
in years beyond
would think of you
this way

. . .