July 10, 2011
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They ask me why I go to her,
Whenever I am scared.
They ask me why I ask her twice,
When I am prepared.

They ask me why the moon sinks low,
In the western sky,
As I finish speaking to her,
Day and day gone by.

They ask me to share with them secrets,
But alas, I have none.
How can I have secrets kept,
When you have heard my every one?

They ask me why I speak of you,
When you live so very far.
But I know you do not live away,
When you’re with every wishing star.

They ask me why I stay up late,
And mumble in my sleep.
They ask me little questions,
That I’m sure you know down deep.

They do not understand the kind of love,
That I share with you.
God blessed me a sister naught.
Though alas, he blessed me you.

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