May 14, 2012
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Young fragile feet touched here.
Here is where she played pretend.
Near the willow tree, she danced,
And across the sweet meadow , we ran.
So many times our piggies
Met the cool wet sand,
And she would trace my every move
Fowling my tracks,
Striving to be
What she though was perfect me.
Those days rantogether and
before her
That summer
Which was
her last.

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Phantom_Freedom said...
May 16, 2012 at 1:37 pm
Extraordinarily well written. Amazingly done. Deep to the point that it made me catch my breath and want to cry. Five stars, favorited, care to glance at mine?
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