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May 16, 1997

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Visions

In a morning reverie
I can see what is to be.
As I sit and meditate
Lines appear upon the slate.
I can see me on the trail,
Hiking on so strong and hale.
I can see my dynasty
Growing much more dear to me.
I can see a tropic isle
Where the sunshine makes me smile.
I can see that when I die
All my dears will wail and cry.

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