The weather seems right,
a soft temperature,
like feeling the rain,
touching our soul.
Inside a dream,
contains many avenues,
we speak too soon,
our time is now.
I wish to be forgotten,
letting memory be one.
Here I will focus the writing on poetry and commentary.
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The weather seems right,
a soft temperature,
like feeling the rain,
touching our soul.
Inside a dream,
contains many avenues,
we speak too soon,
our time is now.
I wish to be forgotten,
letting memory be one.
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