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Trains and buses nowhere went;
the youths’ affections down lost roads.
Planes then flew by love’s ascent
with music words through life’s forbodes.

Month in mountain’s valley high
with winter’s dew, sagacious flares.
Some quickened loves were meant to die,
end quote : “When man aspires, he errs.”

Time has skewered Fate’s dark veil;
two different people, they’ve become.
Flowing sands now weave that spell
to better words – a friend’s welcome.

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