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Rare Thing
par
Frances Quinlan
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My love in the dream, you were already speaking I was too shocked to make any one of my tired speeches Listen, that's a rare thing for me Sunlight touches on the plants that I've been torturing Yet when I come over I love that quick delay before your face lights in recognition I know there is love that doesn't have to do with taking something from somebody Was so much for me not real? I only managed to stay small by making giants out of strangers Through the chaos I can see All afternoon you inhale every bouquet you meet Come to think of it The dream was a nightmare with no one who knew me just then You were there Two-foot tall little bear You took my hand and introduced me to everybody I watched as you were named on that mid-February morning I know there is love that doesn't have to do with taking something from somebody Was so much for me not real? I only managed to stay small by making giants out of strangers Through the chaos I can see All afternoon you inhale every bouquet you meet I have to stop myself and admit I am happy There is love that doesn't have to do with taking something from somebody Was so much for me not real? I only managed to stay small by making giants out of strangers Through the window you look out at me I have to stop myself and admit you make me happy
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