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Cliffs
I sat and watched the clouds today
Darkness, turmoil, on a canvas of grey
The wind was restless, speeding around
Whispering, pulling, pushing birds to the ground
I sought to seek myself out there
Where the wind and the cliff did play
When I returned I was chilled to the bone
And well aware I’d lost my way
I suppose it was vain to think us best friends
I suppose it was vain to think us friends at all
But the trees spoke in prose, and offered an answer
“Patience, dear, patience, now leap from the wall.”
