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Replying to a comment on:
the wind's last crescendo (Free verse) by fair12 summer, and the air
was warm like breath
in an August bayou rain
the front room
sterile, but for the
music stand, and the notes
the wind would carry
twelve strings and a rhythm
of memories, fading
like the last notes of childhood
yesterday still lingers softly
in the alcoveâs of our souls,
pulling at our heartâs songs,
seeking that child
who once learned to sing
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