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Listening to Chopin

Hands know not
What hearts don’t tell
They have no ear
To hear the sound of life.
The heart must spell
Sweetness
not boldly so
Sadness
not wholly so
Quiet mists of morning
Tender fern front yawning  
Calm pooled to stillness
Drifting, drifting
Listening
Clouds relaxing fists.

Matilda









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