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Over And Over Again
Sitting under a
weeping willow
wind rustling
in the leaves
they began
whispering a
name
over and over
again.
Reaching in the
shadows
grasping for
your hand
tiny pools
so near, almost
touching
yet suddenly
jerked away
In the distance
my shadow
approaching
now walking
beside me
vague memories
linger.
Looking out over
the water
clouds gather
moisture
rain-drops create
tiny pools
reflections of
your handsome
face appear.
poem
by
Heather Burns
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