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A dismal shroud slunk From slackened hands, Dense rain draped the valley In its musty, velvet folds,   Dogfighting flurries of Paper airplanes wavered, Plummeted under those whistling bombs,
The wonderful memories of you are still on my mind. And I would rather not forget the good times. I remember the stroll with you along the quiet avenue, The warm night you kissed me in the moonlight,
My eyes keep burning from what seems like one hundred hours of staring into a dry wind. That wind seems determined to send my retinas into a drought. It hurts to close them.
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