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A Rose With Any Other Name

What is in a name,
But a spell in binding
An essence to stone,
But within the spell, we transform
Stone into rose
Rain into gold
And I thought; who else could be,
But this tiny wanderer in me?
For she was not Morgan without flawed skin,
Brown eyes,
Love for the call of an owl in the dark hours of the night
A desire to be free of all that made her linger
Yet without the spell,
We would be something different
Gravel or stone or whatever we choose
And without our spell,
I'm afraid we'd never find home



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