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Dont worry my son the sand will fill all the holes,And you'll build a house atop of which that you'll call a home.The walls they will creak,And the halls will grow mold,Outside the columns of red may fade and peel like an apple skin,But her laugh will bring color that you'd lost years ago,And in …

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Harvest

Bring to me December,Bring to me the cold,I will be the ember,Bite it back with teeth of gold.An orange and rusty glow,I will burn the snow,Let the waters flow,Down unto the plateau.Then come September,When the wind whispers relief,When the ground bursts forth its wheat,What is lost I will remember,Hidden among the bundles reaped,Silent, not yet …

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