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oh you who are never the same
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What of the little phrase? Its notes, like leaves
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I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
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Who can now tell what was taken, or where,
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Built to say at least. Built to reach for the heat
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A rosemary bush with a sorcerer’s cloak
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Out of the deep and the dark,
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“Child of the earth,
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a ghost town
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Moving as a mind moves across a math problem,