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There is a spot that I call home,
In a field that's half witheld
Near a river's cosmic turn;
Under the grasp of an elken paw,
Patched by white and gray,
I breathe what's left to breathe;
I think of you and me,
Of, also, how semblance sewed
and coupled singularities;
The sparrow has its air,
The sun the earth,
The river fills her banks;
Much like the night, alone,
Needs company, and gives in to day,
So I do need to see you rest;
Yet when I reach to grasp your pant,
I feel but the early autumn breeze;
Then I, somber, think,
How can the world itself pair off,
But keep you apart from me?

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The following comments are for "Brood"
by mj20300

Excellent this. Love it.


( Posted by: pablowilliams [Member] On: November 12, 2009 )

Love it, great work this. Go and find this person, it breaks my heart!


( Posted by: HeRoCoMpLeX [Member] On: November 13, 2009 )

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