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Published: 22-Feb-2013
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The little girl who runs beneath the trees
has only the weight of her pigtail,
and a faint song in her throat.
She skips alone
and skips along the street; because she does not realise
that she will never have any greater good
that that piece of live gold on her shoulders,
or of that joy in her throat.
To those of us who have
no happiness other than words,
not the bright tuft of hair nor the great
hope that swells the heart of that girl,
if it is not too much to ask, let
love be taken before this gift is taken away.
englishperv
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