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Shiploads of thuya are what
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shot / with late afternoon sun. They glow a deep
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My only advice is not to go away.
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I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
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We seek / The poem of pure reality, untouched
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I’m just
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The sky goes on living it goes
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I don’t know where you are,
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wishing sunday into monday
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We carry sketches
