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Paper thin voices at the library

Birdsong at dawn 

Marching in the rain

Weak, frail, but smelling of wisdom and joy

Freshly baked bread

Squeaky new shoes 

Sleeping babies

Stiff, fresh sheets and I just showered

Silent, powerful machinery 

Perfectly cut cubes 

Kittens purring in my lap 

Every little sound crisp and audible

Talking to you till it was too late to sleep

Worn pages crammed with words

Clean, cool and calm;

I know what all these words mean.

They used to make me happy.

I still think about them sometimes 

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