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Click hereSometimes in the lower branches of the
banyan tree
sitting in the shade
leafing through the memories of My mind
Comes a whisper
a soft susurration
that begins with a slither and ends with a sigh
And I know the stars will come out that night
and kiss My brow as I sleep
Wipe that crease of worry as I lay
My pillow just a bag of feathers
when it should be your breast