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The words I say.
The way I would express them,
over flow from my heart and wrap the stars in my Passion.
The way I feel can be described only be a tree,
a single tree.
Its branches spreading out over time with our love.
In time sprouts memories.
And yes if as the cruel frost of winter should come and the memories fall.
New memories and thoughts still grow even greener. And as our love may die with this old tree. leaving behind its sorrows finally tearing it apart to used for its memorable wood this will not be the end.
For the tree will split but it will live on whether it be hear the sweet opera music on a Broadway stage or to carve the initials of a loved one, or as simply to deliver my final words _ goodbye.





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