April 26, 2012
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She planted every
Lone, lost seed
Into the wet, spring ground

And while they slept
Beneath the earth
She sand a solemn song

"Oh be fair
Reap for me,
And never die away,"

"Never, never
Wander there,
Always must you stay."

And while the sun
Brought less warmth
Thy seeds began to grow

Spindle vines
On carpet looms,
A tapestry of orange

She went outside
On autumn day
And reaped what she had sowed

Those lonesome seeds
Had grown indeed
And laid out on golden shore.

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