A Wonder

It's funny how it goes
when no one ever knows
what falls above the apple tree
where belief has spread that nothing grows

It's funny how it seems to be
that all that we will ever see
rests before a naked eye
which holds in that of you and me

It's funny how I always cry
while days to years just pass me by;
I have to sit and wonder why
still I sit, and wonder why





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