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Music

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I sit there
Preparing myself
I wait
I think
Then I play

The first chord
Floats away
Gently gliding
On a breeze
And finds a listener

It brings them,
Draws them closer
Then as it dies
The next is born
Following the first





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comeandgone said...
Apr. 28, 2012 at 8:21 pm
nice!!!!!!
 
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