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Harmony
requires inner voices.
A year produces riches for the wind.
People find their chances in their choices,
Perhaps because they see much better blind.
Yet lovers find reunion in sweet song,
For music is the tide beneath their yearning.
Old years, like words, remain forever young,
Untouched within the beauty of their burning.
Reason with good reason sets the date,
Touched by time to pause and celebrate,
However deep the tumblers of its turning. |
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