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REAL LOVESo often I see poems of love The moon so high and stars above But then time passes and love it dies Amongst the bitterness a person cries look inside at vacant staring eyes Every so often though there is real love growing A father, a son, wife and daughter glowing As I peruse this photo I see it showing What is nice about real love it grows and where it started no one knows I mustn't stay too long love might caress To untie a broken heart I must confess. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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