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paradise loveIn a field filled with red poppies, yellow tulips and forget me nots |
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RE: paradise loveI like it |
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RE: paradise loveNice flow! Clean and tight at least by my sight. Kudo's! |
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RE: paradise loveVery good. "Our hearts finally beat" I think could be improved upon. Did you mean our hearts paused then finally beat? I am not clear on it. It might be just me. |
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.