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The smell of ginger bread fills the kitchen with the heat of an oven reminding me I am home. Stepping outside is a shock wave of senses, the smell of snow in the air that the wind has left behind.
Hearing the Seasons By: Hannah Beasley   Winter:   Winter sounds of soft touches, The light crunch when you step through snow,
O'er the mountain, Under gray sky,  An eagle calls, I hear his cry.    O'er the mountain,  Doves mourn and cry,  Sit and listen,  As they all sigh.   
His words lift my heart On wings like an eagle's So it soars. His voice surrounds me. "Shawnee." That is what I am hearing. Then I awake to find that it was only just a dream.
For four years, I didn’t hear the world around me For four years, I lived in comfortable silence For four years, I communicated using only the two good hands God gave me For four years, I was deaf  
That melody, that melody, that haunts my wretched brain,It fills my dreams by night it, it follows thought by day.That melody, that melody, its source I think of in vainIt is ever with me, whether I sit or stand or lay.
Can you hear me now? We want our president We want to be heard we want to be noticed! No longer, pushed aside and kept in the dark. Can you hear me now? We want our president We want to be heard
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