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Our Numbered Days
I etched my claws into the trunk of our tree
And carved our names in a spiral
Designed like a calligrapher with a gold pen
I ran my fingers deep into the core
And marked our days in between the violin strings
the leaves strum
the seasons shift
and we’re far from the bark
Our memories meet halfway at the same sapling
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A story about two people whose past memories of each other meet at the same tree where they carved their names, even after they've parted ways.