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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-06-11 | |
Morning in all it's glory,
seeping through my windowpane Dawn's break of the day, washed clean and fresh, again Birds are waking slowly, singing to the dawn Dew has left a thousand tiny prisms dancing across the lawn I can smell the coffee brewing in the pot Another day of glorious wonder will not be forgot Rising from my bed, to drink a cup of brew I walk my little stone path as my feet are bathed in dew
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