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BELLS –
Bells
A note is ushered in
The cord of reality is depressed.
The metal bob makes the first toll;
The daughters of music awake from rest
Though I know not where it is
I long to see it:
The shadows of me
Long obscured by the night
I strolled
Through memory lane
The days which held
A mind less distinctive…
I was playful and inquisitive
Relishing the music of nature;
Often lulled to sleep by it
In
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