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Her face like a whisper of soft evening air
Is caught between happy and downright despair.

Her feelings are hidden and hard to define,
Some times she feels like she's losing her mind.

The friends that she's chosen are seldom around…
They smile in their passing,then look at the ground.

So much time is wasted in trying to see,
Which way the wind's blowing and what she will be…

But it seems somehow prudent to look far ahead,
To plan for the future… for when she is dead.

Life's so demanding and just like a rope
It threatens to strangle yet fills her with hope.

That she may be rescued, from a life that is dim;
To be placed on good footing, to start over again.

But it's not very likely that any will see
For she keeps it all hidden and has buried the key.

She drifts through her life, feeling uncertain fear,
If she chose to reveal it, would any one hear?

Her doubt is as big as the mountains of snow
Piled high in the streets with nowhere to go.

So she attaches a smile to her lips, not her eyes,
And she walks always forward, and believes she is wise.

Copyright reserved by Ramona Gibson/ Morgana

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