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Lightning at Your Door
January 7, 2009
I arrive on your porch
With a rose in my hand,
In a white suit,
And a mariachi band.
The color I hold
Is yet untold.
There’s a breeze in the sky,
But I yet feel cold.
When you open the door
The birds will sing
Evil will cry
And the bells will ring.
I hand you the rose
And you’ll drop a tear.
Face me dear,
I’m here! I’m here.
© Anonymous
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