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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #1398795 |
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Weekend
I wake up to the taste of coffee, or of tea simmering to the brim; of children playing, with tiny wooden sandals slapping down our earth. All life’s music whispers hence, and roots itself within: a melody has found itself perched on a lonely piano, and as one soul we play.
© Copyright 2008 Ms. Byron (UN: r.quill at Writing.Com).
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