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A Poem Revised

As the evening wind blows,
whispering leaves echo your name.
Endless repertoire of eddying rainstorm
brings tiny teardrops on my patio door;
each mist sparks glistening memories
of you and nothing more.
I see myself on the hazy glass
writing words of the past
searching for dreams that may last.
And like morning clouds kneeling
on the unmoving mountain slopes,
praying for that mythical day;
always we are but a dawn away.

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