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Created on: July 26, 2011
The day I come back home
The rains will come;
The trees will whisper
Of years long gone.
The day I’ll breathe in
The smell of wet leaves,
And in the still air
Will echo the laughter of kids.
I will be back
I swear on my pride;
And barefoot
I’ll walk the streets of my past:
Haunting, rugged, beaten, battered,
Beautiful forever in my mind.
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