| Marv Velando |
Musings |
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Manahatta |
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| where words for the wind breathe flurries of this first in white where aching reality nor seeming simplicity of joys and sacrifice where one beating like never before adrift in wanderlust where delightful springtime queries desire labor and patience where a plume, paper, canvas dance to you and each one where loving again even without knowing is freedom where home is now while the one who never was echoes still ... |
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