The Watcher

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She Leaned to watch for
Anxious if we are late
In the winter by the window
In summer by the gate
And though we mocked her tenderly
Who had such foolish care
The long way home would seem more self
Because she waited there
Her thoughts where so full of us She never forgot
And so I think that where she is
She must be watching yet
Waiting until we come to her
Anxious if we are late
Waiting from her





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