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■ The oak
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All she is, is color
brightening up the screen. A voice, Or words written on the monitor. She is time ticking away As I count the sheep. My eyes are heavy, I cannot shut them. For now she is a close memory. Every time I see her, my heart stops. My finger tips moisten, My hands turn clammy. It feels like a dagger is digging at my nerves. It plunges right into my heart. I feel tears that I do not show. All I can do is smile, As I know some day I will see her again.
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