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I gaze at the clouds,
Because my father once did too.

A wondrous light peeks through the gray wisps.
Splish after splatter, drops of rain falling
And I’m afraid
That it won’t be like before.

The aroma of the damp grass fills my nose
And fills my head of old memories,
Both bad and good.

But it only makes me want to be in that wispy cloud
Next to you.

New York
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