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Patterns


you draw patterns in the nightly sky
     white lines from star to star
making up our own
   constellations

you portray us as a flower
    sometimes a tree
but I am not anything as
  beautiful as you draw me to be

I am the mud between the roots

I am the rain washing it away


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taking residence in my heart

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a song upon a breeze
for music has forsaken us
went lost among the trees

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in silence now we just await
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