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Is This April

Old Jerusalem

The water won't stop falling
It will flow
Grow between stepping stones to puddles where we'll play
Someday...

Winter's windowpanes of bitter thoughts
A storm brought you inside
And outside a storm has taken you
We could have just sifted through like a breeze
Couldn't we?...


Anyhow amidst this
I'm close to being wind in her ears
A silence...
A kind of silence...