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Her breath in the winter air fell,… like snowflakes to the forest floor. And wandered neither here nor there… Till the panting voice of springtime….spawned, came screaming through the door,… as flowers bloomed everywhere. The quiet of the summer eve, broken only by her cries… wherein only secret lies,… lay hidden neath the dark of time gone by,
Thought I heard her question why,… All of this must surely die? Seems to be the way it goes…yet Jane has somethin no one knows… a voice inside her always seeking… never knowin it’s me whose speaking.. must be something I said.