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Going Jazz
Juliet
26 Jan 2002
My pen in your hand your warmth on mine Dancing circles, spinning steps of hope scratching dreams of tomorrow.
You strum bright-coloured paints they melt upon my sounding waves. Bubbles fluttering, hugging, snuggling tunes of colour splashing hologramic hues of possibilities.
I smell your heartbeat, you heard my smile. My Suns beamed, Your flower flushed. Yellows will warm while blues bathe. Hands clasping, heads meeting.
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