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July 15, 1993

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Words at My Call

My pen inscribes another verse.
The lines I won't at all rehearse.
I set to paper what I feel!
Whatever has the most appeal.
The thoughts are floating in the breeze
For me to siphon as I please.
So many words are at my call
It's hard for me to use them all.
The rhymes are sometimes light as air,
Or laden with concern and care.
I paraphrase thoughts as they come,
And worry not about their sum.
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