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There is no pain in recital..
Neither in the pause..

A story of a bird..
And a fairytale of a time..
A beautiful little girl who..
Played by the swings..

And a bird that sang..
The song of life..

Many sunsets and moons..
Of midnight..
that fell and rose..
Along with tide..

Long many years ago..
A girl who played by rivers along..
The dice and ropes ..
Of critical time..
And some tricksy tiles..

As the days and weeks..
Did pass by..
The pillars did grew ..
And tiles did slide..

A beautiful rhythm of life and lure..
Long many years ago..
When time was like..
A fruitful gulp of air.. And a way..
To the place of..
Solitude and rest..
And more of mine..



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