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imagesWe sway like tugs moored in moonlit harbors

Tethered each to each with fishermans coil

Dizzy we stride ‘twixt these lime tree arbors

 

now we have grown too frail for fields and toil

My hands they are wrinkled, weathered, and thin

Old as the alders asleep in their soil

 

I see the world turn and galaxies spin

In each unconscious blink of your eyes

They burst into being, and die again

 

When I feel it rain I know a star cries

All alone and no soul to fill the bleak

So I guess that’s why this land never dries

 

so let me take you here against my cheek

when we feel surrounded by this slow grind

to search your eyes for something more to speak

 

I’d say it all if i still had the mind

if never i’d lived to work and grown weak

When the time comes the right words i can’t find

 

‘Always’ is a song that the morning sings

This then is an ode to the broken things

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