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Created on: July 28, 2008
Meeting at Seven
The dusk was just setting along the hills
and the air was romantically fresh -
it blew across our skins, our lives, our minds.
We walked endlessly in our favorite park,
in huge, unknown circles -
over and over and over.
Until we met face to face with reality
and suddenly everything became a dream.
I hugged a tree,
you hugged me.
you held me close and touched me softly
as all others seemingly vanished with the sun.
One last round of trees, of ground
one more touch, one more glance.
You turned to go, not wanting to look back,
empty handed as before.
I tried to cry, but couldn't
just being thankful for
one last meeting at seven.
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by Jane Coryell
Meeting at Seven
The dusk was just setting along the hills
and the air was romantically fresh -
it blew across our skins, our
Snippets of our conversations still remain,
With me as I still remember your sweet voice
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