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She breathes the air
of hope’s despair
whilst despair
bleeds hope’s seeds
What must be . . .
must be . . .
for there’d be
no rain . . .
no tears
of strain . . .
no season’s gain . . .
if there is no pain . . .
Awe of her . . .
is as it should be ©️

– epc

She, is lock and key, to ‘we’.

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