T H I R T Y F O U R

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Ingrained in my heart, etched on my mind.

Mist of our memories,
Is floating all around me,
Sounds of our laughter,
Still in the wind.

Yearning for a change,
Of the weather and events,
Under the sun, there is a chain.

Turbulence of moods,
Of events,
Of all those feelings chained.

Maybe you belong in snow,
Up stacking on my hair,
Crass and harsh, but softly blow,
Hanging out cold in December air.

From the sky you are,
A miracle, I bravely dare,
I promise to not scar,
Questions I'll never tire.

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