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My neighbor’s mom–delightful in every way–knocked on my door and presented me with a fresh batch of Dutch homemade cookies; her mother’s recipe–I’m blessed beyond measure.
the rain dances on the windowpane–plopping in sync with my heartbeat–you pop into my thoughts, peek-a-booing like you sometimes do; yearning to cure me of my pain.
I bubbled in my selections–carefully and wisely; the changes I dream of may not manifest, but I did my part–my voice has been heard.
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