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Not Just A Memory
The droplets that fall one by one from the sky touching the land
Remind me of the precious memory we own
Memory of our emotion we keep inside
The flowing water flooding the street
Recollect me of our feeling
Which rushing in my blood through my vein
Making a fond sensation I love
But,
It surely will not be just a memory
Our falling droplets, our flowing water
Will be some things we look after
For ever...
poem
by
Little Red Apple
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