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56 words 56 words

There were moonbeams at the window once

and stars in Boston rocker chairs

as lights went out with fleeting wings

blowing out life's candle and then you were gone

with the potpourri incense of eternal love

but memories and shadows still sit at my window

in twilight dusk of sifted flowers, rising,

as I whisper, 'abracadabra'

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