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Echo

It was a similar winter eve,
When she, henna, rich on her palms,
Blushed face partly in red,
Came to ask for her letters back.

Silent pleas in her bewildered eyes,
Face, pale with the shadows of unknown fear,
Then, with the letters clenched in her fist,
Drowned in reflections of past,
She leaned on my shoulder and cried.
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5/13/2021 11:44:54 AM # 1.0.0.578