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‹ Three weeks passed since I had seen her • Because that’s not why I write ›
February 11, 2009 in Poems, Time and Eternity | No comments
I breathed enough to learn the trick, And now, removed from air, I simulate the breath so well, That one, to be quite sure
The lungs are stirless, must descend Among the cunning cells, And touch the pantomime himself. How cool the bellows feels!
Tags: must, touch
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Keeping Up with Emily
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