02032013

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you have etched into my heart

a walking path

lined with flowers

of every color;

 

i've walked it once or twice,

myself, and i've seen

bluejays and buttercups

but never you yourself

 

i suppose that's all well;

but amongst these flowers

and the path trodden by your feet

in my head a string of words repeats:

 

i miss you,

i miss you.

do you miss me?

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