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■ The oak
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Wash out
A sleepy moon gets up As I lie down alone again, Painful memories chat In my head – Children playing on the beach Of my mind, Building castles on the waves of sadness, Illusions out of salt and sand, Which the sea swallows quickly, Dreams on the way to forgetting, And the water washes away The sand between my toes, As if nothing had ever happened Sydney Krivenko 2008 All rights reserved
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