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just the tops of the trees were moving as before a storm she told me she was tired i knew she was she'd been up since dawn planning things to improve our lives inside us were hearts and livers and other things pumping and filtering i didn't like the idea of storms of the tiring people are prone to but i had no say in how the life force manifested itself except for my small plot of free will--- if you could call it that (To copy or translate this poem, please contact its author) TRANSLATOR and ILLUSTRATOR WANTED FOR THIS PAGE
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