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Long-lived woods,
burning hays,
colorful moods,
happy days.

The breathless giggles
and mad barks
as each of 'em mingles,
it always marks.

They ran downstairs,
away from the dark,
away with the turmeric.
It will always mark.

Eating something spicy,
joking on something serious;
chasing the trees
while on the way to being furious.

She had dropped off
the dreams they take.
Clutching the closest pillow,
she was finally awake.

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