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Rated: E · Prose · Travel · #1567525
A dream about our changing world.
  I awoke to find myself wandering down a path.

The morning dew on the flowers and leaves looked like falling tears.

Birds lined both sides.  Their songs sounded more like crying.

Crying for those who look but cannot see.

Crying for that which will soon be lost.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1567525-The-Path