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Molly
November 15, 2016
The web of words to choose from,
Scraping words from my heart to express,
Under the stairs we meet.
Random and awkward are my lyrics.
Looking like a ghost as I spoke,
Not losing interest as I Listen,
Her sweet song of a bird.
Parting ways before time ends,
Listening for her tweet,
remembering the dissipating moment,
When will the next song come?
© Anna Y., St. Robert, MO
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