Is This April
Old Jerusalem
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The water won't stop falling
It will flow
Grow between stepping stones to puddles where we'll play
Someday...
Winter's windowpanes of bitter thoughts
A storm brought you inside
And outside a storm has taken you
We could have just sifted through like a breeze
Couldn't we?...
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Anyhow amidst this
I'm close to being wind in her ears
A silence...
A kind of silence...