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■ The oak
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She thinks I haven't seen
felt nor known her heart that weighs every moment deep upon its soft form and dreams out upon Those soft flowing beds of love. She thinks not I see the sparkling heavens that gird her eyes when they look deep into mine Nor the smile that fills her soul When she walks with me. She pretends away the dream that holds her so Awakens her to every cherished moment. Till she's by my side laughing the days contentment holding to the feelings That pump as sure the blood that flows. She thinks not and therefore it cannot be, as if her mind can control what truly make her whole, She longs again where my form pressed upon hers leads her mind and heart away begs her deep her wanting plea And there upon the moment finds my lips. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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