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Donna's Poems
On the Table Sat

Glimpses of something so far away,
Willowy, whispy, and it won't stay.

Shred our love like some confetti,
Ripped it apart made us unsteady

Turned to the right then the left
All the while so bereft

Only we blame ourselves
For deep and lonely wells.

Isn't there another golden pet,
Can we circumstances sublet.

Another kitten grow to cat?
Is it as simple as that?

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