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Waking sun reminds of onsetsFor the past is kept without,So light dew may bless the moment
Breezes carry your memory, a mild, rosy fragrance. The wind may sing far into the quiet darkness, but we wait patiently, craving our happy tryst.
Your voice is like the Nightingales I laugh out loud at your high pitch But that’s an obvious clue; I love you and I can’t deny
