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Traces of my touch
I've pushed the borders
I left the stations
The trains are equally sad
The passengers equally busy
I've crossed the moonlight
I've swum the seas
The drops are equally wet
The depths are equally low
I've touched the treetops
I've opened the nests
The boughs are equally fragile
The root is equally deep
Nothing has changed
But the traces of my touch
poem
by
Miroslava Odalovic
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