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When my song becomes a whisper
and my brush holds no water
I will walk the hidden path
Between your house and mine.
You will tease me, telling me
I can’t grow old,
Only more beautiful.
I’ll snicker and your smile
Will tickle the threads of my soul.
We’ll laugh as the sun dips
One last time, hands bound,
Eyes locked,
Into the light together.


ยฉ Amanda Makepeace

NaPoWriMo 2012