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The apple tree bloomed in lemon drops. What did it know? Smelling sweet, was as much a success, as what it might ever grow. She walked through rubbing palms on leaves of blue, wondering why, here, even trees had lost the thought of what to do glory colors burst through in butterfly wings, strange imaginings, unknown unsolved clues no warning, its stinger biting through; eyes large, mouth round she pulled her ashes out to drop them, trembling ancient heartache, seeking balm. rock to rock water crossed, steps on paper feet careful movement whispered cries, on and over to the other side; softly settling balance forward self denied, to find at last no difference there and she hung her head and cried.
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