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I still remember that December

when Wally fell down the well

and what his dad said when they

thought him dead. I remember

the resin you used to bring the

strings of your violin alive, and

how I strived to shovel my love

onto your tiny plate from which

you ate very little. I remember how

the geese squawked and flew

through the dews of December as

I tried to fan our tiny ember of

love and how you urged me to try

again, while again never came again

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